


Heart Of The Mountain

by Kairyn



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Racism, Gen, Gold Sickness, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not sure where this came from, M/M, Mismash of concepts, Secrets, Self-Harm, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Thranduil's A+ Parenting, Torture, dwarf centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:33:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 56
Words: 118,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7142897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairyn/pseuds/Kairyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For three hundred years they've been under attack. It's become background noise now but Gimli can't help but wonder why. Why in Mahal's name are the elves still attacking them after all this time? Surely they have something better to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm not entirely sure where this AU in my head came from... really I don't. It's got elements from lots of different sources in it but since I half dreamed this craziness up that may be why.

The walls of Erebor shook as giant boulders were hurtled against them as hard as the catapults outside could manage. The dwarves inside barely paid it any attention although some of the younger ones couldn’t quite ignore it yet. The mountain echoed with impact after impact but the mighty peak refused to crumble away. Some small pieces broke apart but the mountain was solid and wouldn’t be brought down without much more force. They were surrounded and couldn’t leave but neither did they have to. It was a deadlock.

After what felt like hours the impacts finally stopped and inside the mountain it almost seemed too quiet now. The dwarves knew that it was only a break in the onslaught. Soon enough the catapults outside would be reloaded and the earth shaking impacts would start up again. Not that it would matter. Erebor had stood undaunted under continual attack for three hundred years now. The mountain was nearly entirely hollowed and reinforced from the inside. The dwarves had dug deeper and wider over the years and had managed to eek out a living where it was thought impossible. They had everything they needed and they were stubborn enough to not leave. They had dug their heels in and nothing would be moving them. It had been hard in the beginning but they’d managed to survive the food shortages and sickness that had nearly ruined them.

The only way they had managed it was by virtue of how incredibly clever dwarves could be when faced with a problem. At first they had tried to leave the mountain in secret to find food. That hadn’t worked out very well at all. They’d been captured or killed each time. So they had to find food inside the mountain. There was the underground river, which they had expanded greatly and they now raised fish from. The river had always been a supply of food but it was now even more important since it was their main source of meat. Vegetables and grains had been far more difficult to acquire. Luckily, some of their best engineers had put their heads together to build several large caverns that were marvels of artificial sunlight and terraced growing beds. The first crops had been entirely too pitiful but after three hundred years they had managed to become good enough at farming to survive. They didn’t enjoy it as much as mining but they were passable.

Soon enough the impacts of the continued assault returned and the dwarves inside the mountain continued on with their lives without worry. Most didn’t even notice the booms anymore. It was just the white noise of living within the mountain.

But most was not all. Deep inside the mountain a head of wild red hair lifted from his workbook at the sound of the catapult fire and frowned. It was always so hard to concentrate on his homework when the booms shook the house. He didn’t know how his parents could just ignore it like they did. “Why are they _still_ out there?” he asked, looking over to where his mother was working at the kitchen counter.

“What was that, Gimli?” she asked without looking up.

“The elves, ma,” he said with exasperation. “How can they still be out there after all this time still firing at us?”

“Oh, that. It’s just what the elves do, Gimli, dear. You know that,” she said.

Gimli frowned at the entirely unsatisfying answer. “But why do they do it?” he pressed. Surely after three hundred years of getting nowhere they would have left or something wouldn’t they?

His mother sighed and finally turned around. “Because the elves are jealous of our riches,” she said. “Long ago they decided that since they have magic and eternal life they should have the best of everything. They wanted our gold and gems and we wouldn’t just hand over our hard work for nothing. Well, they didn’t like that and so they started to attack us. But they forgot how strong our mountain is so they’ve never been able to break through.”

Gimli repressed the urge to give an exasperated sigh. He _knew_ all that. It was taught in his lessons. But it just didn’t make _sense_. Why would they still be out there? Were elves really that greedy that even after this long they still wouldn’t take no for an answer? Surely they had better things to do with their time? “That doesn’t make sense,” Gimli muttered.

“That’s elves for you,” his mother said casually. “Daft things that don’t care about us mortals or anything but themselves. But don’t worry dear. They can’t get in and they know it. They’re just hoping we’ll get fed up with them and do something stupid. But we won’t because we’re not stupid. They always looked down on us dwarves but they shouldn’t have underestimated us.”

It still didn’t make that much sense to Gimli but he decided elves really must be daft for still fighting over gold and gems that they couldn’t even get. “Can I go meet da?” Gimli asked. “I’m done my work.”

“Are you?” his mother asked with an arched brow.

Gimli closed the book with hopefully not looking too guilty. “Yeah. Done. Can I go?”

His mother narrowed her eyes and pointed at him with a spoon. “If I hear from your teacher that work isn’t done tomorrow, we’re going to have words, my son,” she threatened before giving her permission. Gimli only felt a moment’s apprehension before jumping off his seat and rushing from their house. Surely he could finish his homework before school tomorrow. He was sick of working on his math anyway. His father might be the royal treasurer but he didn’t care much for numbers. It annoyed Gloin some but Gimli was more interested in the athletic side of his education than the mental part and there was little that anyone could do to change that.

Gimli darted through the streets and dodged other dwarves as they went about their business. As always, the noise of stone hitting the mountain echoed around him as he ran in a weaving path through the streets. Gimli slowed, as he always did, at the very central chamber of the mountain. It was massive and impressive. Even the elves outside their gates would have found it so, Gimli was sure. The ceiling went far upwards and massive crystal chandeliers hung from somewhere up above. The chandeliers glowed with a warm light that Gimli still wasn’t sure how was managed. Massive statues of ancient dwarves lined the hall and down the center was a row of fountains encrusted with jewels.

At the very end of the hall was a door that Gimli knew led to the Heart of the Mountain: the source of power that allowed them to live in the mountain without outside resources. It was from the Heart that they could make the artificial light to grow crops and light up the mountain. It even kept the forges burning red-hot without conventional fuel so that repairs and reinforcements could be made along with all the fine craftwork that the dwarves were so known for. The door was never opened and guarded night and day by at least ten guards. Only a few members of the royal family were allowed inside the chamber. Gimli was not one of those members. But he was terribly curious about what was behind the door.

There was no description of the Heart of the Mountain. Not in any of the books he’d read or from any dwarves who had perhaps gotten a glimpse of it the few times the doors opened. All anyone saw was bright light. Gimli stopped by one of the fountains and studied the door. It was surprisingly small really. Considering how large the rest of the mountain’s architecture was it was very normal sized. The door was at the very least plated with gold and had been carved with mythic scenes of dwarven triumph. In the very center of the doors was the family crest of Durin. 

Gimli stared at the door another few moments before shaking his head and heading to where his father worked. He should be done soon and then Gimli could walk home with him. Gloin had been working a lot lately since the miners had hit another gold mine. As Gimli climbed the stairs towards his father’s office the mountain around him shook even worse than usual. He nearly fell over and had to grab the side the stairwell for support. The catapults must have hit right outside of where Gimli was walking.

Gimli hurried up the rest of the stairs and peered out of the narrow slits that arrows could still be fired through if the dwarves ever bothered with it. Outside he could see an entire encampment of elves with catapults stretching out for quite some distance. They didn’t have tents and muddy conditions. They had spiked walls and set back a ways from the mountain were wooden houses in an entirely Elven style that had Gimli crinkling his nose in distaste. They were too… gentle looking. Like one good breeze would just knock them over. But they had been there for decades without problems so Gimli supposed they worked well enough. Yet again Gimli couldn’t help but wonder why the Elves were still attacking. What did they hope to accomplish by throwing boulders at the mountain constantly?

They weren’t getting what they wanted and was money really worth all this fuss? Gimli shook his head. Elves really were foolish. “Gimli lad!” Gimli dropped down from his tip toes and turned to spot his father coming towards him. “What are you doing here, son?”

“I came to meet you,” Gimli replied. “But one of the rocks hit right here so I was looking.”

“Ah,” Gloin said with a bit of a nod. “Bloody elves don’t know when to quit. Guess they ain’t as high above us dwarves as they think they are,” he said with a bit of a laugh. “Come on, let’s get home.”

“Why don’t _they_ just go home already,” Gimli asked sourly. 

Gloin laughed again. “They’re greedy is all. Don’t worry yourself, Gimli. One day they’ll be forced to give up. The King’s never going to give them anything.”

“Maybe it’d be worth it to make them go away,” Gimli muttered.

“That’s exactly what they’re hoping we’ll think, Gimli. Can’t ever trust an elf though, son. They may only ask for pennies now but the next thing you know they’ll be demanding all you’re worth and more,” Gloin counseled. “Nah, best just to ignore them.” 

Gimli hummed a bit at that and put the elves out of his mind in favor of far more interesting things. His ma had been making one of his favorite dinners after all. Plus his father always had the best stories to tell. The ridiculousness of elves were far too baffling for one little dwarrowling to wonder about for too long.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, I am super into this AU right now. Like, super into it. And I'm glad that at least some people find it interesting enough to stick around. Oh, I'm going to go up and add slow burn to the tags on this story because I have a feeling that's the way my plot is heading. Hell, Legolas hasn't even shown up in the story yet!

_Thorin son of Thrain  
Crowned Prince of Erebor_

_I’m sorry cousin but I simply cannot do what you ask. My father made me swear I would not interfere and I am a Dwarrow of my word. I do not know what caused my grandfather Gror to break from Thror but I know it could not have been for no reason, cousin. Grandfather wouldn’t have left his brother to face a siege of elves without a damn good one. Father says that the line of Thror has to handle it themselves though he doesn’t know what caused the disagreement either. I wish I could help, Thorin. Truly I do, but my hands are tied by my own word. Besides, those damnable elves would see us coming miles off._

_I wish I hadn’t made that promise to father but he insisted and he was so sick… I hate to suggest it but maybe you should try negotiating with the weed-eating pixies? At the very least if you can find out what the bloody hell they want I might be able to help some other way. We might not have seams and seams of gold but we aren’t without our sources of money. You know I’ll help however I can short of breaking my promise._

_Dain son of Nain_

Thorin son of Thrain glared out at the assembly of elves outside of his home and crumpled the letter in his hand. He knew it had been a long shot writing to Dain for help. Gror had made it clear when all this started there would be no help coming from the Iron Hills. Still, Thorin felt he had to try and it stung that his cousin would not send troops. A few dwarves out there would turn the tide of this onslaught. Thorin narrowed his eyes. There had to be some other way. The situation was getting desperate.

The food supplies of the mountain had again come up short this year. Despite their best efforts to supplement their food supply they usually barely made it through the winter months. And this winter was looking to be harsh indeed. If only they could somehow break the elven lines, but they hadn’t the archers for it. Archery was never terribly popular. Their catapults too had been rendered useless thanks to that pale spider that was camped outside. Every time the dwarves sought to fire a boulder back at their attackers the elven curse would break the machine asunder. It took months to repair them and in that time the elven line recovered. He didn’t know what spell the fiend had cast but it was infuriating beyond belief. Especially since it used up what little wood they had.

Thorin’s eyes narrowed at the building set back beyond the reach of the dwarves’ catapults. It had the elf king’s insignia flying above it and he knew that heartless crook was within. He’d never seen the elf king himself, only pictures made long ago. The siege had been going on at such a distance for so long there was no longer any sort of face to face. And besides, his father Thrain, as King, would have dealt with the elven bastard should talks still occur, which they most certainly did not.

“You look glum,” Dwalin muttered as he came up beside the crowned prince. He followed Thorin’s eyes out of the window and made a noise of understanding in his throat. “Glaring at them won’t make them go away. Would have left ages ago if it were that easy.”

“A tunnel on the East side collapsed yesterday due to the siege. Twelve died,” Thorin growled.

“I heard…”

“If only they would come at us fairly!” Thorin turned from the window and stalked across the room. 

Dwalin grunted. “Well, elves,” he said rather dismissively. “What do you expect?”

Thorin grumbled but didn’t bother to answer more than that. He would like nothing more than to take a force out and _ruin_ those superior-minded pointy-eared annoyances but their arrows would rain down upon them long before they got in range. It was unknown how Thranduil, and the name felt like a poison in Thorin’s mind, had managed to get such a force and hold it on their gate for so long but they seemed an ever-ready force. Well supplied and well disciplined. And more importantly, always there. Elves were unfortunately better equipped to wars of endurance seeing how they lived forever.

“How’s the King’s project coming along?” Dwalin asked, more to get his best friend’s mind off their constant ill neighbors.

Thorin frowned some and traded the crumpled letter in his hand for the diagram on his desk. “Well enough. We’re almost done clearing out the chamber. Soon we can start building the lantern,” he said. The proposed new growing chamber was big enough for a small orchard and plenty of their tiered crop beds. The only thing it needed was the lantern that mimicked sunlight so well. This lantern however was going to be much larger than the others and produce much more light. It should, hopefully, put an end to the food shortages once and for all. It was several years away from being completed however. The lanterns were marvels of engineering but quite complex to make. The secret to them was known only to the master craftsman who had designed them and he didn’t seem inclined to share the secret. Not at the moment anyway. Though considering his age he would have to share the secret soon lest it be the last lantern anyone made.

“That is good. And… has he said anything more about you marrying again?” Dwalin asked.

“I don’t _need_ to marry. Fili and Kili are my heirs,” Thorin responded instantly. Thorin glanced at his friend before sighing some and putting down the plans for the new chamber. “He is not happy but he seems to finally be accepting it. I’ll not marry just any Dwarrowdam that comes by with a spec of blue in their blood. If I do decide to marry it will be for reasons far more important than simply continuing a line.”

Dwalin hid his grin. “As you say, my Prince.” He rather agreed with Thorin and was glad to hear that the king’s continued pestering hadn’t worn his friend down at all. He had been trying to get Thorin to take a wife before Dís had even found her One. “The new recruits seem to be doing well,” he said, switching finally to the real reason he had come to speak with Thorin in the first place. “Gloin’s son is taking the lead again. His other teachers were not exaggerating his skill with an axe. He may even make guard of the Heart’s chamber at the rate he’s going.”

Thorin grunted a little. “Gloin should be happy at that.”

“If he were any happier he’d explode,” Dwalin said dryly.

Thorin smiled though it still didn’t manage to fully remove the thunderous look on his face. He was glad that his people were able to live out their lives with some amount of comfort and joy despite the less than ideal circumstances. Still, he would rather they have the ability to live their lives truly freely. “I have thought of an idea, Dwalin,” Thorin said. Since Dain refused to come he would have to settle for the back-up plan he’d come up with.

“An idea?”

“Yes,” Thorin said as he made his way to the window again. “We have dug out nearly the entire mountain and deep into the earth we’ve mined. We must put this to use. If we tunnel our way out of the mountain we can flank those point-eared weed eaters and break their lines.”

Dwalin frowned. “We would have to tunnel for miles. And the tunnel would have to be large to fit that many soldiers. It won’t be easy to do,” Dwalin pointed out. To break through the elves it would take a full force and they had never attempted to carve a tunnel that large for so far before.

“We have the time to do it,” Thorin replied, entirely undeterred by the thought of difficulties. “But I will not have our people trapped in the mountain like vermin in their holes. We are dwarves of Erebor!” Sitting still and passive did not sit well with Thorin. It never had and though his father seemed determined to continue to wait out the elves like Thror had when the siege first began, Thorin could not do that. He would not do that. 

“If we fail the elves will have a way into the mountain. Can we risk such a thing?” Dwalin asked. He looked out at the rows and rows of elven forces that would like nothing better than a straight path to the mountain.

“They would have to get through the tunnel and they would not be able to do so quickly. We would be able to cut them down before they got far,” Thorin said with utmost confidence. “If we tunnel to the far side of Dale they would not be able to see us and we could gather our forces there.”

Dwalin grunted and looked at the human city in question. “If the men don’t tell the elves. They certainly don’t seem upset that the weed-eaters are on our front step,” he muttered.

“When this first began Dale said it would not intervene in our ‘dispute’,” Thorin said, sneering some at the end. As if a prolonged siege to rob them blind was really a dispute. “But it’s been three hundred years. Many generations for men. They must be aching for our riches as much as the elves are. I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to ‘get involved’ now that they can get back their markets.”

“They could team up with the elves then to rob us blind,” Dwalin said as the two dwarves turned away from the sight of the no-man’s land that surrounded their mountain home.

Thorin shook his head. “No, they have endured the elves beside their city for centuries. No doubt they are well versed how cold and greedy Thranduil and his ilk are. The men will see that we’re the better option.”

“And if they don’t?”

Thorin scowled at nothing. “Dwarves are not unused to standing alone,” he said finally.

“How do you propose we reinforce the tunnel though?” Dwalin asked. “We don’t have much wood to spare.” Even with the Heart having taken over the efforts of keeping the forges burning with it’s boundless energy it wasn’t as if they had a huge supply of trees. 

“We’ve been growing trees for years in the chambers,” Thorin said. “We can use them if we need to.”

Dwalin frowned. “Fruit trees. Young fruit trees. Not exactly the best source of wood for holding up a tunnel.” The engineers would be throwing a fit trying to use fruit trees in place of good thick hardwood tree trunks. Besides the obvious issue of needing those trees to feed their people.

“It’ll have to do,” Thorin replied. “And we’ll only use them if there’s no other option.”

Dwalin sighed but nodded. He didn’t like it and judging from Thorin’s face he didn’t like it either but the basics of the plan were sound. It was pulling it off that would be the tricky part. Besides, they had held out this long. A few more years shouldn’t be too bad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, super into this story. I'm having fun trying to write while also not giving any secrets away too soon. It's a nice challenge for me writing wise. No, Thranduil is not an evil jerkface jerky jerk here. He has his reasons for what he does (plus I read too many evil!Thranny works.) Also... I can't help but find Thranduil letting little Bain crawl all over him to be just too cute. More Thranny the nanny plz!
> 
> Also, wasn't originally planning on Tauriel showing up but she wormed her way in and who am I to say no? I mean... maybe she'll even get together with Kili later on.

Thranduil, King of the Greenwood, glanced over at the fellow King sitting nearby. King Bard was still looking over the various papers for the renewal of the trade agreement and though very little had changed since the last agreement he insisted on reading it over in full. Thranduil was slightly annoyed but only because he had other, more pressing, matters to deal with than the trade negotiations. He looked out of the window towards the cursed dwarven mountain and felt familiar stirrings of rage building. He pushed the feelings down as best he could and turned away from the sight to walk over to his seat across from Bard. Not looking at it was the only way to ensure he wouldn’t do something… destructive.

He poured himself another large goblet of wine and reached up to pull his autumn crown from his head. Soon he would make a new crown for winter but not quite yet. There was still a little bit left in autumn to enjoy. Not that he did personally. He was enjoying less and less these days. He put his crown on Bard’s desk and leaned back in his chair with the innate elegance and grace of all elves. Bard let his eyes flicker from the words he was reading to the Elf King. “You look tired,” he said. The fact that Thranduil looked _anything_ was noticeable much less tired. He always made certain to appear as untouchable as possible.

“This… battle, is tedious,” Thranduil said as he eyed his goblet. “Three hundred years is not so very long for an elf. But I was hoping this battle would last at most days. Not centuries…” Thranduil’s voice got somewhat soft near the end but Bard tactfully didn’t mention it. Thranduil never appreciated it when someone mentioned the brief lapses in his cold exterior. It was something Bard had learned very quickly. The elf took a long drink of his wine and drained the cup in one go. He refilled it without hesitation. 

“Well, I can understand that. I can’t even fathom going on this long with it, even if I did live long enough,” Bard muttered. He’d known Thranduil all of his life and had heard the Elf King’s frustrations about the siege of Erebor repeatedly since before he even knew what it meant. 

The room went silent as Bard continued reading the agreement that Thranduil had brought. After some time, Thranduil heard the scratching of Bard’s pen on parchment. Thranduil wasn’t in the least surprised. It was a fairly generous trade agreement for Dale. It had been last updated at least a century ago if the elf king remembered correctly. At least, that had been the last time he’d mustered enough caring to worry over trade with the human city. Trying to beat a mountain into dust with only boulders had been far more consuming of his time and attentions. He didn’t know how there were any dwarves left in the accursed mountain but considering how it burned brightly every night Thranduil knew there were. They should have at the very least starved to death by now!

Suddenly there was a tug on Thranduil’s robes and he glanced down. The little Prince had toddled over from where he’d been playing with some wooden figures carved by elven hands and was now staring up at Thranduil with wide eyes. Thranduil just stared for a moment as little Prince Bain broke into a huge grin and held his arms up, clearly expecting to be lifted.

Bard was not surprised nor did he comment when Thranduil wordlessly put his goblet to the side so that he could pick up Bain. He knew the old elf was a lot softer than he wanted anyone to believe. At least with children. It was still hard not to smile though as Bain curled up against the elf King and played with his long golden hair. Bard folded up the trade agreement and slid it across his desk. “All signed,” he said softly.

Thranduil nodded some even as Bain’s little fingers tangled in his hair and left fingerprints all over his jeweled broach. “You should put this one to bed,” Thranduil said while reaching for his goblet. “Surely he is too young to be up this late.” As if to prove the point Bain yawned widely and laid his head on Thranduil’s chest though his fingers and hands still grasped at the elf king’s robes and hair proving he wasn’t quite asleep yet.

“I tried,” Bard said with a lopsided smile. “But he heard your name and threw a fit when his mother went to put him down. It’s all your fault. He’s far too fond of you,” Bard accused though he was still smiling.

“It shows his poor taste,” Thranduil replied casually.

“I was quite fond of you at that age too,” Bard pointed out.

“Whom do you think he inherited his poor taste from?” Thranduil asked archly. “Thank the Vala you grew out of it. Else you’d have never found your wife.”

Bard sighed and shook his head at that. “Perhaps it’s the blatant bribery,” Bard said. Each time Thranduil dropped by both of Bard’s children got brand new toys. Well, Sigrid had gotten dresses this time but that was beside the point.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Thranduil replied. He took a long drink of wine and didn’t deign to look at the human King.

There was a knock on the chamber door and Bard called for whoever it was to come in. Thranduil glanced up as the tall redheaded captain of his guard came in. “Tauriel. What is it?” Tauriel wouldn’t have come and interrupted them if it wasn’t important. She knew better than that.

Tauriel gave a graceful but short bow. “My Lords. This has just arrived from the palace, My King,” she said holding out the parchment to Thranduil. She seemed full of pent up energy just barely being held back. Thranduil put the goblet he was holding to the side before reaching for the letter all while keeping Bain secure where he was lying with his free one.

Bard was silent as Thranduil opened and read the letter though his curiosity was peaked to it’s highest point. He frowned slightly at the letter before folding it back up and handing it back to Tauriel. “I’ll have to return to the palace,” Thranduil said as he carefully got to his feet.

“Bad news?” Bard asked even as he went to take his son from the other King.

Thranduil glared at the distant mountain just barely visible through the window. “Anything that delays this further is bad news,” he said in a tone that Bard couldn’t help but shiver at. When Thranduil got angry his voice went frigid and sharp like a winter gale. “How I hate that mountain…”

“If there’s anything I can do, Thranduil. You know I will help,” Bard said as he rubbed his son’s back slowly.

Thranduil’s cold eyes flicked over to them and his posture relaxed ever so slightly. “I appreciate it, Bard. Your line and your city’s continued support has been very helpful,” he said. He took up his autumn crown though he didn’t bother to put it on at the moment. “I will keep your offer in mind,” his eyes flicked down to the now sleeping Bain. “And take care of your family. If the dwarves ever do leave their mound of stones then they will not take kindly to your support of us.”

Bard scoffed slightly. “We can handle the dwarves.”

Thranduil’s mouth twitched up into a slight smile. “Do not underestimate them,” he warned. “After all, they have held me at bay for three hundred years.”

“Only because they hide in their mountain,” Bard said. “If they came out to fight you I doubt they’d last so long.” Thranduil said nothing to that and simply inclined his head. Tauriel followed him out of the human King’s office.

The two elves said nothing for several minutes. “Ask what you wish to ask, Tauriel,” Thranduil said. He could sense the she-elf’s nervous energy easily enough.

“Is everything well?” They rarely received any news from their wood that made Thranduil leave the siege to his commanders. Most of the running of his halls and lands he left to others. Galion could easily handle the palace even if he did spend much of his time drinking away the wine.

“The spiders have returned,” Thranduil said.

Tauriel paused with a noise of distaste. “The foul things! Why do they keep returning?” she demanded of nobody in particular as she quickly caught up with her king.

“Foul things always return, Tauriel,” Thranduil said. “Whether they be spiders or stunted malformed dirt grubbers with no hearts! I will deal with the spiders quickly and then return to finally lay that pile of tainted stone to rest. However, until I return you are in charge of the siege.”

Tauriel almost stopped again. “Me, your highness?” Though she knew that her King would have to appoint someone to continue putting pressure on the dwarves she certainly hadn’t anticipated it being her. She was not nearly as experienced as some of his commanders were and every other time he had left, rare though it was, he had left one of them in charge. As ancient veterans of battles they had been far more obvious choices.

Thranduil glanced back at her. “Yes, Tauriel. This should not take long and you deserve a chance to prove your skill against more than just spiders. Though the cowardly dwarves will most likely pose you no problems,” he said. They hadn’t seen furry hide nor coarse hair of a dwarf in centuries. Apart from the few glimpses they saw through windows and on battlements. “Leave my flag flying. That should stop them from using their catapults.”

Tauriel nodded. “As you say, my King. I will not let them rest from our attack.” Tauriel looked back at the mountain and scowled. The lights were still lit. They were still in there living as if they had done nothing wrong. It was infuriating. “I wish I knew how they had survived this long!”

“Either they have help or they have done a surprising thing and have ventured away from toiling endlessly to satisfy their own greed,” Thranduil said. The elf king highly doubted that. Whoever heard of dwarves farming? They have no respect for growing things or care to learn about them. “They must be getting food from somewhere…”

“But we have the mountain entirely blocked off!”

“Yes,” Thranduil agreed. “And that is precisely what worries me. While I am gone, double-check the perimeter. Ensure that we have left no open spots for supplies to somehow make it past us and to the mountain.” Though starving out his opponents was not Thranduils favored method of fighting, the dwarves brought it upon themselves by cowardly hiding behind their walls. If they had just surrendered ages ago none of this would be happening. This would have all been over and the last three hundred years would have been much brighter.

“I will do so personally, My King,” Tauriel promised. “If there is a gap I will ensure it found and closed.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Frerin... Even in this AU he doesn't catch a break. I feel kinda bad about it...

Gimli was a bundle of excited nerves. So much so that he could not even braid his beard properly. He undid the mess of braids and forced himself to slow down as he tried again. The second attempt was much neater and straighter than the first. Once he was fully braided and presentable, he grabbed his boots and roughly pulled them on. Today was a very important day, after all. His training group was getting their assignments from Dwalin that morning and there were several highly coveted positions open. 

Ever since Prince Frerin had met his unfortunate (and far too early) fate during the elven siege, King Thrain had decreed that every member of the royal family had to have a guard. Fili and Kili were not amused in the least but the King would not be swayed. And with Fili and Kili’s current guard retiring the position was opening again. Gimli was personally hoping to be assigned to guard the young princes. That would certainly be entertaining and he had always enjoyed spending time with his older cousins when they were all a bit younger.

Gloin, however, was hoping Gimli was assigned to be a guard for the Heart Chamber, and while yes, that was perhaps the most revered position in the mountain for a warrior, it didn’t spark Gimli’s interest. It was guarding a _door_ for Mahal’s sake. A door that never opened. And the guards just stood there. Beside a closed door. Making sure it stayed closed. No, Gimli would much prefer to guard his cousins. 

Of course, he could also be assigned to guard the tunnel that was being built or the vast treasure vault. Both of those were worthy assignments and at least there people were allowed to come in and out. In the tunnel he’d even be able to get updates on the digging! Far more interesting than a closed door. 

Fili and Kili had said that they would try and convince Dwalin to assign Gimli to their guard but Gimli didn’t really know how successful they’d be. True, they had gotten their grandfather to relent on the number of guards from one for each to one for the pair but Dwalin seemed immune to even Kili’s charms. Or perhaps it was just that Dwalin wasn’t their grandfather and had less of a soft spot for them.

Either way Gimli knew he’d be assigned to the force that would break the elven lines but that was a ways off yet. The tunnel had to be completed first. So until then he needed some sort of job. Hopefully one that wouldn’t be dull as watching the fruit trees grow. Something that he had heard was quite dull indeed from those that tended to them. At least there was no chance he’d be relegated to farming. Gimli almost shivered at the very idea. Usually those that tended to their food supply were the dwarrows that had been injured to the point that they could not work in the mines or perform their preferred crafts. Though they were well thanked for providing a necessary service for the mountain Gimli wouldn’t want to do it and didn’t blame them in the least for being less than happy.

It was a deliberate effort on Gimli’s part to not run through the halls of Erebor to the training barracks. He hadn’t eaten much breakfast before leaving but he hadn’t been able to force himself to do so. As a result he got to the barracks far earlier than he really needed to. At least he wasn’t the only trainee that had gathered early. Loni was waiting nearby looking nearly beside himself with nerves. “Ho Loni! You look about ready to faint,” Gimli greeted his friend.

“I’m fine,” Loni said firmly. “I just wish Dwalin would arrive and give us our assignments already. I’ve been waiting for an hour.” The dwarrow’s dark eyes briefly flicked over to where Dwalin’s office door was still standing closed and then moved to Gimli. “Of course you’re probably fine. Being at the top all the time you’re likely to get your choice of assignments,” he added with a bit of sourness.

Gimli let out a rude noise of derision. “I’ll not get any more choice than you will, Loni. Dwalin will assign each of us wherever he wants.”

“Yes, but you’ll get the best posts, I know it,” Loni said with no small amount of exasperation. “You’re really quite frustrating to be part of a group with, you know. You make it downright embarrassing to compete against.”

The redheaded dwarf shook his head some. “I keep tellin’ ya to get a different axe. The one you got now is just not suited for your reach. You’d fix half your problems if you just had the right weapon,” Gimli said. “You’re the stubborn arse that won’t take the advice of your betters.”

“It’s my father’s axe,” Loni protested. “You use your father’s axe.”

“Yeah but me and my father have the same build unlike you and yours,” Gimli said. “If you’re not going to fix the problem stop complaining about it all the time.”

Loni made a face but before he could say anything else Dwalin’s office door opened and the infamous drill instructor came out with a list in his hands. Instantly the conversations around the room stopped and all attention was on the frankly terrifying older dwarrow. Gimli couldn’t help but straighten to his full height as Dwalin’s eyes moved over the group of them and he wasn’t the only trainee he noticed doing so. Nobody wanted to be less than perfectly trained soldiers when Dwalin looked at them.

Dwalin grunted some before holding up the parchment in his hand slightly. “Alright then, these are your assignments and they aren’t negotiable!” he said firmly. “Our King’s already signed off on them so if you don’t like them that’s too damn bad. I’m going to call your name and then your assignment. Quiet until I’m done or you’ll be in the growing quarter for a month!”

The threat made more than a few eyes widen and Dwalin was grimly amused by that. One of his favorite pastimes was keeping his recruits in line. Well, Nori accused him of ‘terrorizing’ them but what did that sneak thief know anyway? A little fear was healthy. Dwalin grunted again at the expectant looks he was getting and started to read the list aloud. There were twenty recruits to place. Luckily it wasn’t difficult finding things for twenty young well-trained dwarrows to do.

Gimli again tried his best to remain calm and still as Dwalin read through the list with a certain amount of frustrating slowness. Surely he could speed this up at least a little, yes? There were only twenty of them! Dwalin reached Loni’s name and Gimli mentally cursed as his friend was assigned to Fili and Kili. A bad feeling was rising up and was confirmed only a few moments later when Dwalin reached Gimli’s name. “Gimli son of Gloin: Guard of the Heart Chamber.”

Gimli stifled a groan as best as he could. The oh so important but also painfully boring task that he hadn’t wanted. Well, he thought with a slight sigh, at least his father would be proud. Soon enough Dwalin finished reading and muttering and talking broke out. More than a few of his fellow recruits turned to Gimli. “I should have known you’d get the Heart Chamber,” someone was saying.

“Well, of course, Gimli’s best in the class.”

“Still not fair…”

Gimli sighed and reached up to rub his forehead. “I’d rather guard Fili and Kili…” he grumbled.

“I remember the trouble you three got into when you were younger,” Dwalin said. Gimli jumped a bit, not having realized Dwalin had crossed the room. “I’d have to be crazy to give you three the chance to cause that much chaos again. Now come along. I’m to show you to your position.”

There was a bit more muttering but Gimli just followed along obediently. It wasn’t like he could turn down the job. As Dwalin had said earlier, these positions were all approved by the King. He wasn’t unhappy enough at the job to go and complain to King Thrain of all people. “Is it really so terrible?” Dwalin asked, sounding terribly amused.

“No, of course not,” Gimli said quickly. “I just, I don’t know how well I’ll be able to handle standing still for so long.” He had never been one to stand still for long periods and that was essentially all this position entailed.

“I can understand that but it was really the only place to put someone with your skill. Well, aside from watching over Fili and Kili and I already told you why that’s not happening,” Dwalin said. “The last thing we need is a repeat of all of that.”

Gimli frowned. “We weren’t that bad…”

Dwalin snorted. “Not that bad. I remember the incident with King Thrain’s bed and the ink and the soot and the kitten.”

Gimli winced some at the reminder. That had not been their finest moment but to be fair none of them had known that the chimney in Thrain’s chambers was being cleaned that day. Honestly, how could they have been expected to know that? And really, that was ages ago. “We wouldn’t be doing that now though…”

“No, you’d probably do far worse,” Dwalin said as he continued to lead the way through the halls. “You are older now.”

The two dwarves made their way through the various halls of Erebor until they reached a small door near main barracks. Gimli was a little surprised but followed Dwalin inside of the room. It turned out to be a small armory with several sets of highly polished golden armor. “All of the equipment in this room is specifically for the guards of the Heart Chamber. You’re free to use any and all of it,” Dwalin said. “There’s a trunk over there you can store things in as well while you’re on duty.”

Gimli nodded and went over to the nearest suit of armor. It was very familiar to him as it was the same as the other guards of the chamber wore. The sharp angles and decorative knot work was similar to the other royal guards but distinctive to the Chamber guards. He studied the insignia of the Heart of the Mountain that was emblazoned on the helmet before turning to Dwalin. “Master Dwalin, what is the Heart of the Mountain anyway?”

Dwalin frowned some and seemed to think about it. Finally he sighed. “Since you will be guarding it I suppose it does no harm to tell you. It’s a gem. A large white jewel the size of my fist. It gives off a light the likes of which I’ve never seen before or since. I only got a glimpse of it when the door was opened several years ago and I don’t think I was supposed to even see that much so keep it to yourself,” he said. “We only have to guard it nothing more or less.” 

After a few more minutes of looking about the room, Dwalin took Gimli to the chamber and introduced him to the other guards that were already on duty. They all seemed nice enough but Gimli couldn’t help but notice they did indeed seem rather bored. He tried his best to not sigh in agitation. This was going to be the most boring assignment ever. He hoped dearly that the tunnel was finished faster than anticipated so that he would be taken off of guard duty. Surely Mahal would be kind enough to grant him that at least?

Gimli was certain that after meeting the guards that would be all that Dwalin had to do with him but to his surprise Dwalin signaled for Gimli to continue to follow. Surprised but curious nonetheless, Gimli followed without hesitation. Dwalin led them through some very narrow halls that opened up to a larger one that Gimli realized was close to the kitchens. Dwalin guided the new guard past the bustling kitchen and down yet another corridor that Gimli honestly hadn’t ever noticed before. It wasn’t well lit like the rest of the mountain was and it was not in the least bit decorated, which was odd. They had so much gold and gems with no place to sell them that the riches had begun to be infused into all sorts of unusual places.

This corridor however was so unremarkable it was astonishing. Down at the end of the hall, far enough away from the kitchens that they were barely heard, was a normal sized albeit golden door. It was the only bit of decoration in the entire hall. Hanging beside the door was a dim light and standing in front was a member of the Heart Chamber’s guard. There was a back door? Never in his entire life had he heard mention of a back door to the Heart Chamber.

Dwalin obviously saw his confusion. “This passageway and door is to remain a secret, Gimli. It’s only used to perform maintenance on the system that keeps the Heart supplying us with power. It doesn’t access the main room from what I understand but it’s vitally important to the running of the mountain all the same,” Dwalin explained. “Think of it as… the gears behind the machine. This is how to get where everything works. The Heart is in the front chamber where the other guards are stationed.” Gimli nodded some and allowed Dwalin to introduce him to the other guard. He supposed it made some sort of sense. Those doors in the main chamber so rarely opened surely there had to be some other way to do whatever they needed to keep the whole of Erebor running.

From the little he learned of the system in his schooling it was a complicated system that was a miraculous infusion of magic from the Heart of the Mountain and the dwarves own ingenuity. The specifics were a secret but it had sounded far beyond his comprehension anyway. Gimli had never been very interested in how it all worked.

Gimli and Dwalin spoke with the guard by the service door for several minutes before Dwalin led the way back down the corridor. “It’ll probably be a few weeks before you are expected to guard that door,” Dwalin said. “It’s unfortunately somewhat boring, I know, but we have to protect what’s keeping us alive and prosperous.” Gimli sighed. That might be so but standing at the end of a dark corridor in front of a door seemed even worse than standing in front of the front doors. 

“How do I know which door I’ll be at?” Gimli asked.

“That’s decided among the guards. I think they hold a tournament every weekend to figure it out, so there is that to look forward to,” Dwalin said with a grin. “And they’re all very good so it might even be a challenge for you.” That, at the very least, put a little bit of a bounce back into Gimli’s step.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wouldn't it just be like Gandalf to stick his nose into it? I think so.

The sunrise was beautiful. The clouds were painted with light pink and rich royal purple with nearly black sapphire along the top ridges. The sky behind the cloud started a warm yellow and shifted into a faint blue that promised to grow only bluer as the day marched on. The mountains and trees seemed almost black against the sky and from over top shafts of golden sunlight cut through the clouds for miles. But there was one small creature who didn’t see it. Tucked deep into his bedroll, Bilbo Baggins only roused some time later when the fire cracked loudly.

He jerked awake and looked around in some confusion before realizing where he was. With a resigned groan, he detangled himself from his bedding. Why had he allowed himself to be talked into this again? He couldn’t quite remember. This entire journey was a mess and terribly uncomfortable. Especially that bit where he’d fallen through a trap door and ended up swarmed by _Goblins_ for pity’s sakes. And the Goblins hadn’t even been the worst of it. No. That creature that lived in the pit of the world had certainly been unnerving. Being told he’d be ‘eaten whole’ was something he hoped dearly to never repeat.

Bilbo looked around in some confusion to see that he was alone in the camp. “Gandalf?” he called. He received no answer and grumbled to himself several ill-tempered Shire sayings and focused instead on making his first breakfast. Trust the wizard who had somehow finagled him into joining him on an _adventure_ of all things to disappear. _Again._ He really needed to stop doing that. It was how Bilbo ended up riddling with an insane creature for his life, after all.

Luckily, other than the incident in the Misty Mountains, the trip had been rather uneventful. That event on its own was plenty, thank you kindly. And, admittedly, it wasn’t as if he got nothing out of it. A little gold ring wasn’t much for his troubles on first glance, but it turned him invisible so there was that. Handy that was. It would make avoiding that dreadful Lobelia Sackville-Baggins much easier once he got back. 

Bilbo was still munching on the end of some nice crispy bacon when Gandalf reappeared. “Where were you?” Bilbo asked curiously.

“Just looking ahead, my dear Hobbit. We’re almost there,” Gandalf said kindly.

“And where is ‘there’?” Bilbo asked, not for the first time and judging by Gandalf’s lack of answer not the last. Confounded wizards. 

They had been traveling for ages through mountains, and very unsettling forests and Gandalf still wouldn’t be out with it. He’d only said vague things about needing a burglar or something equally puzzling. Bilbo Baggins a burglar! Why the very thought was utterly preposterous and nonsense. He was a respectable Hobbit! Lobelia and her sticky fingers would have been a better choice for a burglar, and yet here he was. His darned Tookish side had gotten the better of him he figured. It was a good thing he adored his dear mother, so otherwise, this Took-like tendency for ill thought out decisions would be a genuine hardship.

Gandalf seemed amused even as he ate a quick (and far too small in Bilbo’s opinion) breakfast. Once Gandalf had finished, and the meal had been cleaned up they set out again. At least there weren’t any more ponies to be had. Gandalf had sent the pony and horse they had borrowed from the frankly terrifying shape-shifting woodsman back at the edge of the forest. Though walking in the gloomy and mystifying forest hadn’t been entirely pleasant at least Bilbo was no longer sore from a saddle. No, now he was only sore from sleeping on the hard ground and tree roots since those seemed to be everywhere that he tried to lay down. Bilbo would be infinitely grateful if he could just find a bed. He wouldn’t even be picky on how thick the mattress was so long as it had one.

They walked and walked and then walked some more. The trees seemed unpleasantly looming, and the dim light that managed to break through the trees was not in the least enough to make it very cheerful. Not like the forests Bilbo was used to in the least. Tuckburrow had some fine old trees but nothing like this. These trees seemed endless and… almost as if they had a life of their own. Like they might spring up from their roots and shift around at a moment’s notice. Bilbo shook his head vigorously. Utter nonsense again. Who ever heard of a tree that moved? Strange thoughts seemed to come far too naturally in this place. He should like to be free of these winding endless paths and oppressive atmosphere. The very air seemed to be weighted down by sorrow, and it was cloying with something otherworldly that made it entirely impossible to just breathe. He had told Gandalf this forest seemed sick when they’d first entered, and Gandalf hadn’t disagreed. And yet they were still going through it.

Slowly, after miles and miles of walking the trees began to slowly spread out. More light was seeping through the upper boughs and the air occasionally had a bit of movement from a quickly strangled breeze. “I should be glad to finally be out of these woods,” Bilbo said as he looked around. There was a cluster of mushrooms that he wouldn’t dare eat despite his love of them. They seemed sticky and oozy as if filled with bile and puss. Just looking at them made Bilbo feel vaguely ill. “I feel I touch anything I should be poisoned…”

“We will be out before the day is over, my dear Bilbo,” Gandalf said from where he was leading. “And though mere touch shouldn’t harm you I’d advise against eating anything.”

“You needn’t worry about that,” Bilbo replied as he hurried forward another few steps to be closer to the wizard. “Oh, how I wish we would have gone around, Gandalf! I feel this forest shall strangle the very life from me it is so dark and despairing!” 

“It is a reflection of its ruler,” Gandalf said.

“Its ruler?” Bilbo echoed in confusion. Gandalf just nodded but didn’t elaborate more than that. Blasted wizard!

True to Gandalf’s word, the day was not yet done when the unlikely pair finally stepped out of the treeline and into the open air. Bilbo nearly ran the last few steps and took a deep breath of the unpolluted air. It was so crisp with the scents of late fall and a touch chilly, but it seemed to clear the depressing thoughts from his mind and helped wake him fully. He hadn’t noticed in the wood, but now that his head was clear he felt like he was waking from a dream. A very uncomfortable and dismal dream that threatened to become a nightmare but never truly did. Most unpleasant.

Bilbo took another few deep breaths and relaxed before noticing the sight in front of them. “Gandalf… what is all that?”

“That, my dear Hobbit, is the Lonely Mountain that holds within it the Dwarven Kingdom of Erebor,” Gandalf said. Well, that was certainly a mighty thing to hear. And the mountain certainly did cut an imposing figure all by its lonesome there on the horizon. “And around it, the elven army of King Thranduil,” Gandalf continued, “which has been laying siege to it for over three hundred years.”

Yes, yes, Bilbo could see that. A thick band of what looked to be a very long-term camp ringed in the mountain and large boulders were being shattered endlessly against the mountainside. “So, we’re to go around that, yes?”

Gandalf looked down at the Hobbit with a bit of surprise on his face. “Around? No, Bilbo, not at all. That is why we’re here.” 

Bilbo paled and nearly fainted on the spot. “W-what?” he squeaked. Nobody ever said anything about elven armies and multi-century long sieges upon mountains. He would have definitely remembered _that_!

“This siege upon Erebor has sent the entire North into a craze. It has disrupted everything from trade to travel, and there are forces in this world that thrive off such strife and discord,” Gandalf said as he began walking. Bilbo stared for a moment before he scrambled to catch up. It wasn’t as if he could very well turn around at this point! He’d never make it through the forest on his own! “It has lasted quite long enough. We must put a stop to it.”

“And how do you imagine you’ll do that?” Bilbo asked.

“I will speak with Thranduil and you, Bilbo, will go into the mountain and see what you can find out from within,” Gandalf said.

“Inside!? But the mountain is under siege, Gandalf!”

“Yes,” Gandalf agreed calmly as if they were just talking about Mr. Worrywart’s tubers or the weather or the level of the Brandywine for goodness sakes! “And the only creature that has any chance of sneaking past an army of elves is a Hobbit,” he said, giving Bilbo a meaningful look. “The elves must pause in their assault to reload the catapults. It is then that you can make your way into the mountain.”

Bilbo just stared for several minutes. “And just what do you expect me to find out, Gandalf?”

The wizard paused and sighed. “I honestly don’t know, Bilbo,” he admitted. “But you are a very capable sort, and I am sure you’ll be able to figure something that we can use to somehow end this war.”

“Don’t you think after three hundred years if there were something to end the war it would be ended already?” Bilbo asked. 

Gandalf shrugged slightly and began to walk again. “That depends very much on what started it, Bilbo,” he said. “Thranduil is not a forgiving kind, and neither are dwarves. Both are exceedingly stubborn. Once I speak to Thranduil, I will know better how to end things.”

“You don’t know what started it?” Bilbo asked. For lasting three hundred years, he would think someone would have known.

“I have heard rumors that point to several possibilities, but I haven’t had a chance to find out which of them are true,” Gandalf admitted. “I was rather hoping that the situation would resolve itself without my getting involved. Suffice it to say that both the dwarves and the elves feel wronged in this and blame is being pushed every which way. It is a mess.”

Lovely. Bilbo sighed and looked up at the mountain standing proud and defiant even as another boulder shattered against the side of it. He really wished he could go back to his armchair right about now. “How am I to get into the mountain anyway, Gandalf? The doors look very much shut…”

“This may help you with that,” Gandalf said pulling something out of the folds of his long robes. It shimmered in his hands and Bilbo felt the need to blink his eyes to see if it was really there. Loops and loops of rope that seemed to be made of glowing mist more than any sort of fibers were in Gandalf’s hands. “This rope was made by the elves. It should allow you to scale the side of the battlements and get inside. But do be careful, Bilbo. You won’t have a very large window of opportunity to do so.”

“Elvish rope…” Bilbo echoed as he took it. It felt smooth in his hands and almost as if it was just waiting to coil around something or perhaps move on its own. It seemed almost alive and eager, and Bilbo wasn’t fully sure he liked it. “How am I to get it up there? Those battlements look very tall…”

“It is Elvish rope, my dear Hobbit,” Gandalf said with no small amount of fondness. “You just need to get one end up to the battlements. It will do the rest. I promise you.”

Bilbo nodded and tucked the rope away. He wasn’t sure he believed it, but Gandalf hadn’t outwardly lied about anything yet. He’d only omitted a few things. Such as the entire destination and point of this quest. Though, Bilbo supposed that was his own fault for agreeing to come along with such few details explained. Bloody Tookishness. Hopefully, it would be satisfied with this mess and leave him be from now on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this chapter was about Gimli... and then Bilbo took over. Impudent little Hobbit. He wanted to sneak a peak at Thorin and well... I'm not about to say no...

“There’s our little Gimmers!”

Gimli sighed some and raised his tankard to his lips. He should have waited though as a rough slap against his shoulder nearly made his choke. He glared up at the unrepentantly smiling Princes. Loni was standing nearby as well looking mildly exasperated. It couldn’t be easy keeping up with Fili and Kili. Gimli lowered his tankard. “That’s not my name,” he said roughly.

“And he’s not exactly little anymore,” Loni muttered.

“He’ll always be our little Gimmers, though!” Fili said his grin widening.

“Our baby cousin!” Kili cooed.

Gimli rolled his eyes and shoved at the two of them. He was only five years younger than Kili for Mahal’s sake and _he_ already had his beard, unlike Kili. “You’re one to talk about being a baby, whisker face,” he shot at the younger prince.

Kili sniffed in the most dignified way possible. “It’s about quality not speed,” he said haughtily. “When my beard finally comes in it will be three times as amazing as yours!”

Fili rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, until then though maybe you should comb your hair,” he said as he sat down with Gimli.

“Why?” Kili asked petulantly. “Nobody takes me seriously even when it is combed,” he pointed out as he sat down as well. “Not all of us are vain dwarrows you know, brother.”

“Aren’t you two supposed to be in lessons or something?” Gimli asked. Though the bulk of most dwarrows formal education was over and done with by mid-adolescence, Fili and Kili were princes. Their education was longer lasting and expected to be far more all encompassing.

The princes made a face. “We decided Balin really needed a break from us,” Kili explained.

“He seemed very frustrated,” Fili agreed.

“Best not raise his blood pressure too much,” Kili said with a sagely nod.

“They say that after they nearly made Balin rip his beard out,” Loni offered. He’d never seen the older dwarrow so incredibly near an aneurysm before. His face had turned a truly remarkable shade of scarlet.

“So we were thinking…” Kili began.

“We don’t have lessons, you’re off duty, and Ori’s bound to need some fresh air…”

“He’ll drown in book dust if he’s not careful,” Kili said with mock pity. “Poor thing needs a bit of exercise in his life.”

Gimli sighed and shook his head a bit. Dori would be beside himself, but that wasn’t his problem. “And just what sort of exercise were you two planning?” he asked as he reached for his ale again. The two prince’s smiles turned almost wicked, and Gimli wasn’t at all sure he wanted to know anymore. Before Gimli could even finish his ale he was being dragged off towards the library to go and gather up Ori. They had no way or even chance to notice the sound of bare feet on stone heading past them.

Bilbo was a nervous wreck. Sneaking about in a mountain full of dwarves (which all had incredibly heavy metal plated shoes that hurt very much when they stepped on his poor toes as a matter of fact) was not his idea of a good time. He was just lucky that nobody had noticed him yet, and he’d managed to stifle the noises of pain as his toes got trodded on. He quickly learned to stick to the outer edges of hallways to avoid it happening too often. 

He didn’t even know _what_ he was looking for. The Elvish rope had indeed done its job and gotten him into the mountain and was now tucked away under his waistcoat, but it turned out that getting into the mountain had actually been the easy part. Erebor was magnificently large with halls and bridges going every which way on so many different levels that it was dizzying. Moving around at night hadn’t even helped. It seemed that the mountain never truly slept. It appeared to be that the entirety of the mountain worked and lived in shifts. As entirely unsensible as that was, it was the truth.

Always Bilbo could be sure that he’d be passing by clumps of dwarves either coming or going from the lower levels. Even several floors away he could hear the racket of the forges, which never seemed to stop. It was madness. How could anyone live in a place that never just _rested_? 

Bilbo had already gotten lost within the mountain three times, and he wouldn’t doubt it would happen again. But he was already inside the mountain so he would do his best to try and find out something for Gandalf. He carefully made his way down the green marble steps towards the lower levels. It was a bit quieter down below at the moment so that probably meant there were fewer Dwarves to possibly bump into. Though the ring on his finger kept him invisible he wasn’t suddenly not there at all. He could still bump into things and people. Dwarves might not instantly notice poor toes under their heel, but they were bound to notice being run into.

As Bilbo moved, he noticed an important looking group of three in the distance. He paused halfway down the stairs before turning to follow. The one in the front was… well rather handsome admittedly, with black hair that was beginning to show some grey and piercing blue eyes that didn’t seem at all typical for dwarves. He had a beard, of course, but it wasn’t as huge and bushy as most other dwarves wore them. He kept its pure blackness shorter, not even stretching the full length of his neck, and the short braids in it were ended with gold and sapphire beads. He had a coat of dark blue and… was that mail armor?! Was that really necessary?

Bilbo shook his head at the foolishness of dwarves and made his way towards the hall that the trio had gone. He spotted the balding tattooed head of the tallest one in the distance. At least they’d be easy to find that way. The third in the little group was the most grey of all of them and had a much longer beard with several elaborate braids. He was easily the oldest and used a walking stick to help him keep up with the others.

The invisible Hobbit continued to follow them down and down and through corridors and hallways until they came to a remarkably large chamber. He had been following a bit of a distance behind so he had not heard what the three dwarves were talking about, but he finally caught up when they stopped in the cavern. For a cavern it was with a small spring bubbling up on one side and nothing but craggy surfaces along the walls and ceiling. The ground had been flattened nicely though so there was that. “This is further than we’ve ever tried to run power, though,” the handsome blue-eyed dwarf was saying. “Are we sure that we even can?”

“Oh we can we can,” the oldest dwarf said with a slight nod. He pointed up at the ceiling, and Bilbo followed the gesture with his eyes. A huge metal circle was pounded into the rock. “If we go directly up we should nearly be in line with the heart chamber. Maybe off a foot or two but it shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll just run a new cord.”

The bald one grunted some. “I’m more worried about running out of power,” he said. “We don’t know the limits of the jewel if we overtask it we’ll have nothing at all.”

“I’ve been harnessing the Heart’s power for nearly all my life, Master Dwalin, I know what I’m doing. The Heart has no limits. That’s why we use it in the first place!” the old dwarf said, his beard puffing out some like an offended old cat.

“Nobody is questioning your skill, Master Rugnar,” the handsome one said. “But it is hard to believe that there is no limit at all. We already use a lot of energy from the Heart. It’s only sensible we be mindful of it.”

“As you say, Prince Thorin,” Rugnar grumbled. He still looked annoyed but pointed to the ceiling again. “The bracket is done already. But it’s the lantern itself that’s the problem. We’re running out of good enough quality glass. I’m working with the glass makers to find a suitable enough recipe with what we have, but I’m not sure we can.”

Bilbo frowned and looked up at the ceiling. They were going to put a lantern up there? Whatever for? What was this place that they were building? And that bracket (which Bilbo assumed meant the metal ring) was huge. Just how big of a lantern did dwarves need? Ostentatious really. And here he was thinking that Dwarves didn’t mind the dark.

The three dwarves spoke about glass and designs and power and all sorts of mind-boggling things for a while before the oldest of them huffed and limped off. Apparently having exhausted his complaints, which seemed to be many. Bilbo wondered if he should follow the old dwarf but then the bald one, Dwalin, began to speak. “Should we even be bothering with this, Thorin?” he grumbled. “By the time we've finished this growing chamber, it won’t even matter.”

Bilbo blinked and looked around at the huge cavern. Growing chamber? They were underground! Dwarves were utterly daft if they thought they could grow things other than mushroom and mosses underground. Any Hobbit could tell them that! A lantern in a cave was no substitute for a good garden under the sun.

“It’s my father’s decree,” Thorin replied. “Besides, it will help us not need anyone else once this is all over. The last thing we need is to go begging to others for food especially since those bloody Elves have most of the food. They’ve been camping on Dale’s fields for three hundred years, even the men must be struggling to provide any fresh crops.”

“Couldn’t we just demand food after we beat them?” Dwalin grumbled as they started walking. Bilbo hurried to keep up. “Seems a lot less trouble.”

Thorin gave a crooked little grin that Bilbo found rather charming despite himself. “If you think Thranduil-” Bilbo noticed he practically spat the name out “will give us anything even in his defeat you’re overestimating the bastard. Besides, we have a whole mountain to feed. Whatever Thranduil has probably won’t last long.”

“Just a thought,” Dwalin grunted. “It’s just… the tunnel will go faster with more dwarves working on it.”

What’s this? A tunnel? Well, Bilbo would have to go looking for _that_. Gandalf would definitely need to know that the dwarves were making a tunnel somewhere. Of course, there was no telling what the tunnel was for…either escape or attack or something entirely different. 

“We have the time to make the tunnel proper and secure,” Thorin said. “We should take it.”

Bilbo continued to follow the two of them even though they were going further and further up the mountain. Thorin was the Prince according to old Rugnar so he should be abreast of all the relevant information. It had nothing at all to do with how damnably good looking the Prince was. Nothing at all. Though Bilbo wished they’d stop going up so many stairs… the effort was making him burn a bit. He needed a break.

Finally, they came to a large set of doors and Dwalin bowed before separating. Bilbo hesitated but then followed Prince Thorin inside what looked like a very nice set rooms. There was a large fireplace with several plush couches. Gold filigree was framing several large portraits and through another door, Bilbo could see a surprisingly large bed. Oh. Oh! He followed the Prince home. Oh dear. Bilbo turned to hurry out again, but there was someone else coming right for him. Bilbo darted out of the way and hid behind a statue of some dwarf.

At first, Bilbo thought that the dwarf that followed them inside the rooms was another man but with more than a glance and hearing that voice Bilbo knew that wasn’t right. “Dis, to what do I owe this visit?” Thorin asked as he shed his coat.

“I’ve been trying to catch up to you all day,” Dis said looking amused. “Father’s name day is coming up, and I was hoping you had some thoughts…” Bilbo let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. No wonder they looked so alike! They were siblings! Of course!

Thorin paused halfway through pulling his tunic off. Bilbo felt his face go bright red and tried his best to not look too closely at the half-dressed Prince. “Me? No. I haven’t put much thought into it.”

“Mm, surprising,” Dis said sounding very not surprised. “My sons haven’t put much thought into it either…”

“I wouldn’t doubt that. But Father’s name day is a month away still,” Thorin said as he tossed his tunic across a couch. Bilbo frowned. Such horrible manners. “I’m sure we can come up with something in that time.”

“It would be better if you didn’t leave it to the last minute this time.”

“I won’t! You worry too much.”

Dis clucked her tongue. “More like I know you, _Nadad_. You’ll get all caught up in whatever project you’re working on and forget all about it,” she said with her arms crossed. Bilbo slowly inched his way back towards the door. Surely this was not in the least important, and it was terribly rude to sneak into someone’s home and listen to their conversations with their sister. 

Bilbo was very glad that the doors didn’t squeak when he opened them and that neither dwarf was paying that side of the room any attention. He carefully closed the doors again and nearly slumped down them to sigh in relief. This entire business was just far too stressful. He needed some tea. And maybe some crumpets and seedcakes. And a bit of ham would be lovely now that he thought about it. And of course, mushrooms always made a lovely side. Bilbo’s stomach growled, and he frowned. And now he’d made himself hungry. He sighed heavily and got to his feet. Best find something to eat…


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is now my headcannon that this is why Dwalin has a blue beard in the Hobbit book.

“That was perhaps the single stupidest plan I’ve ever let you two talk me into,” Gimli grumbled as he worked to polish the large battleaxe in his hands.

“Aww, it wasn’t that bad,” Kili replied, his own hands working on a massive Warhammer that had so many engravings to collect dirt in, it would take ages to properly clean. “We’ve done far worse in the past.”

Gimli looked up and glared at the Prince. “Dwalin’s beard is _blue,_ Kili!” he hissed. Just how much worse could it be? This wasn’t anything like the cat and soot incident of their youth. Yes, it had been admittedly hilarious to see Dwalin doused in inky blue water but staining his beard that color hadn’t actually been intentional. It was supposed to have all washed out easily. A collision outside had the jar beside Gimli shake, and he absently put a hand on it to move it further from the edge.

“It looks good blue,” Kili replied lightly.

“At least we’re not Ori right now,” Fili muttered. Gimli winced a little despite himself. The little scribe had been dragged off by Dori’s painfully tight grip on his ear, and they hadn’t seen hide or hair of him since. Gimli doubted they’d be seeing Ori at all really for quite some time. Dori was in full-blown outraged mother mode, and that never boded well. Of course, Ori let the princes talk him into filching some of his brother’s dyes for their misadventure so Dori probably was even more upset at the ‘prank’ and at the loss of his dye.

The four dwarves had been caught out nearly instantly despite them having a hiding spot and running as soon as they could. Dwalin had been practically exploding with anger, and the four of them were still just young enough to be forced into menial labor to recompense. Old enough to get their first jobs young enough to be dragged off by the ear. “My father’s going to be livid,” Gimli grumbled.

“Oh, yeah? Imagine what Uncle Thorin’ll do to _us_ ,” Fili replied in a low mutter.

“Maybe ya gents shoulda thought about that before ya went an’ turned Dwalin inta a blueberry,” Nori commented where he was sitting nearby going through some little notebook he’d pulled out of his pocket. Though it would normally be a more wholesome responsible dwarf keeping an eye on the youngsters Nori had been drafted for some reason that they couldn’t understand. Was everyone else busy? Dwalin was trying to clean the blue from his beard, they knew, and it wasn’t as if Thorin would have time to keep an eye on them. Balin must have also been busy or that headache Fili and Kili gave him earlier was keeping him away. Maybe Oin was tending it…

“Oh come on, Nori,” Kili protested. “You have to admit it was funny!”

Nori snorted a bit and scribbled something down in his notebook. “I don’ have ta do no such thing. I got more important things ta do than cleanin’ Dwalin’s collection a nasty pointy things.”

Gimli sighed and turned his attention back to the axe he was polishing. Next time Fili and Kili have a genius idea, he was going to run in the opposite direction. Dwalin was in charge of his assignment after all. He could have put Gimli in the growing quarter or something instead of having him clean weapons. That would have been miserable. “I’m never listening to you two again,” he grumbled as he tried to pick some annoying bits of dirt out of the engraving along the center of the axe.

“Don’t be so sour, Gimmers. Just remember the look on Dwalin’s face… all purple-y and huge eyes and a blue beard all puffed out…” Kili said with a grin. “It was worth it…”

It took _ages_ to finish cleaning all of the weapons. Even with three of them working on it there had seemed to be no end at all. By the time they were finally done, Gimli’s hands smelled strongly of polish and oil and his fingers were sore from trying to get into all the cracks and crevices. Why oh why did Dwalin have so many engraved weapons? Admittedly, _most_ dwarvish weapons did, but he didn’t have to clean those!

What was worse was that he had to go into guard duty soon. He had only a few hours to clean up, maybe eat something and then change. He wouldn’t even have a chance to sleep, which, considering he’d been up essentially all night, was a problem. Gimli grumbled more about the foolishness of following his cousins' ideas and how he swore that he would never do it again (a swear even he knew he’d most likely break with very little trouble).

He stifled a yawn with one hand even as he made his way from Dwalin’s rooms all the way across the mountain to where his family’s rooms were. Dwalin had rooms close to the royal apartments while Gimli’s family had been in a rather large set of apartments nearer to the merchant quarter for generations. He cursed his cousins again, this time for having a shorter walk home than he did. Yet another reason to not get caught up in whatever brilliant plans the princes came up with next.

As soon as Gimli got home, he set to at least trying to get the smell of weapon oil and polish out of his hands, but he doubted he was entirely successful. He quickly splashed some water on his face and then managed to run a comb through his hair a few times before changing his clothes. He glanced over at his bed and sighed. He just wanted to lay down there and sleep for a few hours, but he pulled himself away from the temptation to go into the main living quarters where he could get some breakfast.

Since his mother was either out early or not up at all yet, Gimli had to find something for himself to eat. Luckily, there were some eggs and bits of fish that he put on some toast. It wasn’t anything fancy by any means, but it did well to give him something in his stomach. Just as he was cleaning up and putting his breakfast away the door to his parents’ room opened and Gloin came out. “Ah, there ya are. I was wondering if you’d make it home this morning.”

“Just barely,” Gimli replied.

Gloin made a thoughtful noise and nodded. “Is Dwalin’s beard really blue?”

Gimli winced a little. “Yes… bright blue. It was supposed to wash out…”

Gloin stared for a moment before bursting out laughing. Gimli was a little surprised and just stared as Gloin practically roared. “Come now, lad! Dori’s dyes wouldn’t be worth a tin cent if they just washed out! Ah, his beard is blue! I guess I’ll get to see it today! When Balin told me, I thought it couldn’t be that bad, but it must have been to get him so angry at you three!”

The younger dwarf felt his ears turn a bit red. Okay, so his father brought up a good point about Dori’s dyes but shouldn’t Ori have pointed that out?! “You’re taking this better than I thought, ‘Adad…”

Gloin waved a hand a bit before reaching up to wipe away a tear his laughing had brought to his eye. “I figure Dwalin’s punishment isn’t done yet so I’m just going to enjoy seeing his great disciplined self with a blue beard for a while.”

“Not done…” Gimli echoed. He suddenly felt several decades younger and wanted to hide away. He hadn’t thought of Dwalin’s punishment being any more than just cleaning his weapons.

“Oh, aye,” Gloin agreed, a wicked twinkle in his eye. “He does get to control your work schedule, Gimli. Did you forget that?”

“…no, but… I hadn’t thought he’d do that along with cleaning his weapons…” Gimli muttered. Now he really didn’t want to show up for his duty. 

Gloin chuckled, sounding quite a bit more evil than Gimli thought he had any right to sound. “Well, we’ll see what Dwalin has in store for you and maybe then we’ll see if you need any other lessons or not,” he said deceptively lightly. “But if you don’t get going you’ll be late. Off you go. Dwalin’ll only be more annoyed if you show up late!”

With a bit of a groan and a silent prayer that Dwalin won’t be _that_ bad, Gimli trudged out of the house and down to the Heart Chamber Barracks. They weren’t supposed to take their armor to their homes so he had to go there to change into his actual uniform. Gimli couldn’t help but drag his feet more than was really necessary as he made his way through the halls. He felt like a dwarrow about to go on a suicide mission outside of the mountain.

Dwalin was waiting for him when he got to the barracks. And though it was still amusing seeing Dwalin glaring above a beard that was so liberally streaked with bright blue, it also made Gimli cringe. He tried to hide the cringe but didn’t think he really succeeded. Dwalin kept his arms folded and utterly silent as Gimli slowly changed into his armor. He _felt_ Dwalin’s eyes boring into the back of him. He’d barely finished getting into the armor before Dwalin stepped forward. “Gimli son of Gloin, you’re on the second door,” he growled.

Gimli winced at that. “For how long, sir?” he asked.

“Haven’t decided yet,” Dwalin stated. “Just count yourself lucky that Thorin wouldn’t let me move you to growing chamber duty.”

Gimli nodded instantly. He did indeed count himself lucky. He’d have to find some way of thanking Prince Thorin for the help. Gimli wasn’t sure if Thorin had helped him because Gimli was so good with an axe or because Fili and Kili had asked their Uncle to do so. Either way, Gimli was grateful and would have to find something to express that. Dwalin was still glaring over his blue beard as Gimli hurried out of the barracks to go stand in the most boring spot in the mountain. Hopefully, his punishment would only be for a few days. He supposed that depended on how long it took Dwalin to wash the blue from his beard.


	8. Chapter 8

Kili supposed that he and Fili were in enough trouble. What with the whole Dwalin’s beard turning blue thing, and Gimli being forced into some crap position he wouldn’t mention, and then Loni being removed from their guard despite it not really being his fault that the princes had slipped away from him. But his sense of adventure just didn’t know when to stop, and that was definitely not his fault. Clearly, it was some distant ancestor’s fault that he didn’t know when to stop. And really, he was still sort of following his punishment. True he wasn’t actually in _his_ rooms but he was in his grandfather’s rooms so that was close enough. 

He’d only stopped in to speak with his grandfather about not being so hard on Loni. Their guard might have the misfortune of being able to be slipped, but he was a good guy and not as stuffy as their old bodyguard. But the king wasn’t in his rooms. Disappointing really but Kili figured he’d wait for his grandfather. He was there already, and it wasn’t that long before dinner was likely to be served so Thrain should be back soon. His grandfather almost always took dinner in his own rooms.

Despite not really looking to get into any more trouble, Kili couldn’t stop himself from poking around inside of his grandfather’s study. There were all sorts of boring papers and such that Kili didn’t really pay attention to, a few interesting trinkets scattered about, and a few fancy boxes that held everything from inks to various small gemstones in a wide array of different colors. Of course, then he’d knocked over said box of gems and had to scramble to try and pick them all up.

As he tried his best to find all the little specks of color his hand had found a strange gap under his grandfather’s desk. That was when that adventurous never stopping curiosity mentioned earlier came in. Clearly, the gap was there for a reason? This was the King’s desk. It wouldn’t have been built unevenly for no reason. No dwarf would ever give the _king_ something with shoddy craftsmanship. So, Kili bent down to the floor to better examine the gap.

His fingers fumbled along the inside of the gap until he found a small raised spot. Grinning some, he pressed the spot in, and there was a click. The side of the desk popped open slightly, and Kili pulled what turned out to be a door away from the main body of the desk. Inside the hidden compartment, there were several drawers and shelves. Most of what he saw inside was papers, a few particularly nice quality jewels, some fabric looked to be stuffed into the drawers, a silver diadem that Kili vaguely recalled seeing before possibly worn by his grandmother or great-grandmother, and a large golden key hanging from inside the door. Kili had the urge to dig through the secret compartment more but focused in the key first. If there was a key, then there was a door. Somewhere. 

The young dwarf picked up the key from the hook it was hanging on and studied it carefully. At first, it didn’t look like much at all, but then he noticed the symbol carved into it. The symbol used for the Heart of the Mountain. His grandfather kept the key to the chamber on him at all times but nobody had mentioned there was a spare one. Kili noticed something on top of the pile of papers and pulled it off of the pile to look at it closer. It was a drawing of the Heart Chamber. Well, a diagram really but it was far more information on it than he got even from his princely studies. He held the key in one hand and the diagram in the other and glanced between the two. If his grandfather was just going to leave such tantalizing things lying about (never mind that they had been hidden away, and he only found it by snooping) then who was he to ignore it?

Kili grinned like a mad man and quickly pocketed the items and then closed the secret panel. He could look through all the rest of that later. Right now he had to go and find his brother. This was just too good an opportunity to pass up! They might be in plenty of trouble already, but that just meant there wasn’t really any harm in adding to it!

Kili darted down the halls to the common room between his and his brother’s bedchambers. “Fili! Fili come see what I found!” he called even as quickly closed the door to the rest of the family rooms and locked them behind him. No need to be overheard.

“Kili? What is it?” Fili asked, looking a bit sour as he braided his hair, which looked a little damp. “And where were you?”

Kili pulled out the parchment and key with a flourish. “I was trying to catch up to grandfather in his study, but I spotted this instead,” he said putting the parchment onto the table and flattening it out. His brother rolled his eyes a bit but came over and glanced down at what had Kili in such a tizzy.

Fili’s eyes widened once he realized what Kili had ‘spotted.' “Where did you get this?”

“Nevermind that. I’ve got it. And the key to the chamber. I say we go see what all the fuss is about,” Kili said holding up the key even as he started walking towards his rooms.

“You stole grandfather’s key?!”

“Borrowed,” Kili corrected from inside of his room. A moment later he returned already in the process of pressing the key into a bar of soap from his bath. “Come now, Fee, I’m not that stupid to steal the key from grandfather. I’m going to put it back.”

Fili just stared. “How did you even get it?” he demanded. This was what happened when he wasn’t around to temper his brother’s recklessness! He went and stole important keys to forbidden areas from their grandfather the King!

“I told you… I spotted it,” Kili said as he made sure to press the key deep enough into the soap to get a good impression.

“Kili. I’m your brother,” Fili pointed out. “Where did you find it?”

Kili made a face. “Alright fine, there’s a secret panel in grandfather’s desk. I really did find it by accident, though,” he insisted. “And I still say we should go see what’s in there. I mean… we are Princes. If anyone’s got the right to know it’s us.”

Fili frowned but admitted that his brother had a point in that at least. At some point in the future, they’d be allowed into the Heart Chamber too. Why worry about being a few centuries ahead of time? “Are you sure that’s the right key, though?” Fili asked as Kili started inspecting the key for any bits of soap that might have broken off. “I was really sure that there was only one of those.”

“It’s got the Heart Chamber insignia on it,” Kili said waving it slightly. “It’s not like grandfather would keep an old key around or hide a fake key in a secret compartment in his desk.”

“Well, that’s true,” Fili agreed as he finally finished his braiding and then sat down to look over the diagram of the Heart Chamber. It was larger than he expected it to be and there was a wall down half of it. That was odd. He felt that if the chamber was actually two chambers that at least should be mentioned somewhere. At the very least to them. Then Fili noticed that the second half of the room had a separate entrance. “Hey, Kee… look here,” he said pointing to the small notation.

Kili looked up from the mold he was making of the key and then peered over his brother’s shoulder. “Did you know there was a back door?”

Fili shook his head. “First I’ve heard of it. Wonder where it is,” he murmured. The diagram didn’t really depict any of there rest of the mountain so it was hard to tell where the door might be. They could figure it out, of course, the diagram had plenty of other information that they could use to do so, but it would take some comparisons to other maps of the mountain. This diagram looked like it had been used to construct the chamber in the first place. It had lots of internal measurements, and technical jargon scribbled all over it. 

“I bet Gimli knows,” Kili said with a grin. After all, their cousin _was_ a member of the guard. If there was a secret door, then the guards probably knew about it.

“You think Gimli’ll tell us after we got him in trouble with Dwalin?” Fili asked dryly. “Best for us to figure it out ourselves, Kee.” He probably shouldn’t be helping his brother with this foolish idea in the first place but if he didn’t then Kili would do it anyway and most likely end up worse off. But the least they could do was not drag Gimli and further into trouble. At least not until he was off of whatever apparently horribly unpleasant duty he’d been assigned. And it must be unpleasant for him to refuse to tell them, his dearest cousins! Kili had been all but heartbroken at the lack of trust shown. Then again with what they were now planning on doing perhaps Gimli was right to not trust them. Fili shook his head some, now he sounded as dour as Thorin.

“Oh, alright,” the younger prince said with a bit of a pout. “But we should hurry, I wanna know what all the big hush hush is about!”

Fili rolled his eyes again. “First, you go put that key back. Then we have to forge a new one. We’ll work on figuring out where the door is later,” he said pointing to the key in his brother’s hand. “Plus we don’t even know for sure that key will work so keep your hair on.”

Kili sent his brother a truly annoyed look. “Fine. Spoil sport.”

The golden prince reached out and gently whacked his brother over the back of the head. “Without me, you’d be in even more trouble than you already are, little brother.” Kili gave another annoyed look. That might be so, but Fili didn’t have to be so… so right, Mahal damn it!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An admittedly short chapter but Bilbo had some things to say and issues to bring to attention dealing with dwarves and how they need some lessons in proper gardening.

Finding a single tunnel in a mountain full of corridors and mines and tunnels was not easy. In fact, Bilbo was certain finding his way out of Mirkwood would be far easier than finding a single specific tunnel in the mess that was Erebor’s constant productivity. Bilbo was having a difficult time of everything really. Not only did he have to steal all of his food and sleep in places that weren’t meant to be slept in, but he also had to wear the ring the whole time, and it was becoming irksome. The world seemed odd when he wore it, and he was beginning to long for seeing something that wasn’t slightly warped or shadowed like everything seemed to be when he was wearing the ring. He wouldn’t have thought it before now but wearing such a little ring really weighed down on him.

Bilbo took another new set of stairs and a few turns, trying to figure out where he was and possibly where he was going when he came to a large chamber he knew very well he hadn’t seen before. His eyes widened, and his jaw actually dropped slightly in awe. Somehow, the dwarves had actually grown trees underground. Bilbo wandered into the chamber, still marveling at the neatly crafted boxes full of green shoots with what looked to be apple trees planted in between. 

He didn’t even realize he slipped the ring off his finger and put it in his pocket as he walked forward. There were little troughs of water that ran between the rows of plants and the planter boxes were full of sandy soil. Bilbo frowned some at that and took a handful to better examine it. Not the best to be growing things in but then he doubted the dwarves had had much choice. The growing boxes were made of carved stone and had diamonds etched into the surfaces. Bilbo had no idea why they would bother to do that. Dirt would just collect in the carvings and be a bother.

The chamber was actually quite peaceful. It was by far one of the quietest areas of the mountain. There weren’t any dwarves hanging about and the fountain in the middle of the room, which fed the (admittedly quite clever) irrigation system, was really the only noise to be had. A soothing sound of falling water. Bilbo made his way over to the fountain and couldn’t help but be amused. Whereas most peoples would probably create a fountain with something in some way related to water or the plants that the water was feeding, these dwarves hadn’t bothered to follow such conventions. It was made of several interlocking metal disks that moved as the water flowed and then it a rather elegant arc over the edge of the polished marble basin. It had jewels encrusted along the edge, which looked to be diamonds. Bilbo shook his head this fountain wasn’t anything like the fountains in the main entrance hall that was for certain.

Bilbo let his eyes move upwards and marveled again at the giant half sphere that was hanging from the ceiling. It was glowing almost uncomfortably bright now that he was looking directly at it. He couldn’t see much before he had to look away and blink the spots out of his eyes. It didn’t seem that bright in the room, but then he had been underground for several weeks now. Perhaps his eyes just had adjusted to not enough light. 

After blinking a few times, Bilbo looked up again, this time being sure to shield his eyes slightly. He had better luck once he was prepared for it. The curve of the lantern was not, actually, smooth he realized. It was made of many different pieces of flat glass that were joined with little silver strips between them. The light seemed to shimmer as if shining through water and Bilbo couldn’t tell why it did so. Was it something with the glass or the light itself? The Hobbit wasn’t able to make out really many details about the lantern other than it was very large and looked heavy and apparently was able to actually grow trees and plants without the sun. Or maybe it somehow pumped sunlight down here? Bilbo had no idea. He was just a simple hobbit and had no hope of guessing how dwarves had managed something that should have been impossible.

Bilbo tore his eyes away from the main source of light and started wandering into the strange indoor garden further. There was a truly amazing array of plants growing although quite a few could use some decent care. There were some spots on leaves in one bed, and another could use some trimming, and countless other problems were scattered about. Bilbo itched to fix it but managed to restrain himself if only because he hadn’t the tools to do it. He didn’t spot any sheds or cabinets to hold tools either unless they were strangely disguised. Dwarves.

As he walked, Bilbo noticed that there was also little green glass and gold wrought sconces placed every so often. Most didn’t seem to be lit strangely enough but then they seemed to use candles rather than that… whatever it was on the ceiling. Perhaps they weren’t considered necessary anymore. Or were only lit at certain times. Bilbo looked around at the chamber and sighed. Though he would actually much rather stay and fix all the issues with the plants that he saw he didn’t really have time to do so.

With a bit of regret, Bilbo put his ring back on and made his way out of the chamber to continue his search for the tunnel. It should not be so difficult to find a bloody tunnel. It really shouldn’t, and it was utterly unfair that he was having such difficulty doing so. He hoped Gandalf was having more luck with the elf king because Bilbo certainly wasn’t making much headway in finding anything out. Other than dwarves were tunneling, managed to grow food, and had a truly appalling sense of how to arrange plants. Honestly, it was as if they hadn’t even considered where things were going to go. It was all mixed together higgledy-piggledy in places. Quite disappointing for an otherwise quite organized seeming people.

Bilbo shook his head a bit. Now was not the time for gardening no matter how much more enjoyable it was.


	10. Chapter 10

It only took about a week to get a chance to forge a replacement key. It took much longer, however, to find out where the door likely was. Even when they knew about where to look, they had trouble finding the little passageway. Mostly because it was narrow compared to other halls and so poorly lit as to be deliberately unnoticeable. Though, that did make sense considering this was obviously not meant to be known about. At least it wasn’t covered by a tapestry or something equally cliché. Of course, that would have made it all but impossible to find even knowing that the hall was somewhere in the area of the kitchens.

The two princes made their way down the surprisingly dark hall and after a few moments were able to make out a single armor clad figure by a light. Rather excited, the two of them picked up the pace a bit more. They were substantially less excited when the guard, an older dwarrow they’d seen several times before, refused to let them through the door. He was firm that he knew they weren’t actually allowed in and wouldn’t step away.

Defeated (since they weren’t about to fight the guard on top of breaking all the other rules) the princes were forced to leave. They didn’t give up though and throughout the entire week made a point of stopping by at various times. That one guard couldn’t be there all the time. It had to be a shift. So Fili and Kili just had to find the shift that would let them bend the rules a teensy tiny bit. Just past a month after they had found the key, they finally were able to find someone they knew would let them past.

Gimli managed not to groan when he saw his smiling cousins’ faces. But only just. “So this is where you are!” Kili chirped. “We were beginning to worry about that!”

“You could have told us you were down here you know,” Fili added as the two princes came to a stop right beside their fiery-haired cousin.

“Nobody’s supposed to know about this door,” Gimli replied. “And how do you two know about it?” he asked suspiciously.

“We’re Princes,” Kili said as if offended. “Of course, we know about it!”

Fili nodded. “It’s only natural.”

Gimli really really doubted that but decided it wasn’t worth the argument. “Well, since you’re here, we do need you to let us by,” Kili said.

“The door’s locked,” Gimli stated.

“Not a problem. We have the key,” Fili said pulling their freshly forged spare out of the pocket on the inner lining of his vest.

“Ya stole that didn’t you?” Gimli asked dryly. There was just no way that Thrain would send his grandsons before coming himself or at least sending Thorin. 

Kili put a hand to his chest as if wounded. “Ouch, little cousin. Such little faith you have in your Princes. It is truly disheartening,” he said with all the innocence he could muster. Too bad it didn’t sound remotely convincing.

Gimli snorted and folded his arms over his chest. “I’m still stuck back here from the last thing you two convinced me to do ‘my prince’,” he said, putting as much sarcasm into the last two words as he possibly could. It was quite a lot actually. “You just want to break the rules and get where you’re not supposed to get. Last thing I need is someone finding out I let you in somehow and being sent to the growing quarter. Guarding a door is bad enough, thank you.”

“Oh come on, Gimmers, you can’t tell me you’re not even a little bit curious,” Kili said as Fili waved the thick key back and forth slightly. Taunting him with the promise of knowing delicious secrets. “We just wanna little peek…”

“Five seconds and we’ll be gone. Like we were never even there,” Fili promised. “Our word as Princes, Gimli.”

Gimli studied his cousins for a moment. They were both still smiling hugely and had that glint of mischief about them that always got them into trouble when they were little dwarflings. Several incidents that had gotten them all soundly punished (the most recent dyeing of Dwalin’s beard included) had led Gimli to be wary of that look but on the other hand, it wasn’t like Fili and Kili would do anything to harm the running of the mountain. They knew better than to mess with the source of their continued life in Erebor. Plus, if he didn’t let them in they would most likely annoy him to no end. Finally, Gimli sighed. “Fine then. But just a quick look,” he agreed as he stepped out of the way. “And if this bites me later it’ll be your beards… or whiskers as the case may be…”

Too excited at the prospect of knowing delicious secrets, Kili blithely ignored the slight. “You are a dwarf among dwarves, Gimmers,” Kili said as Fili slotted the key into the door.

“The best of all cousins,” Fili agreed.

The pair of princes laughed and pushed the door open. Instantly light flooded the hallway, and they went inside the room. Gimli rolled his eyes at the pair. Utterly impossible. Suddenly Kili backed out of the chamber with a very unusual look on his face and Gimli realized the laughter had cut off almost instantly. “What is it?” he asked turning to his cousin.

Kili had grown very pale indeed and was just staring back into the room that was still flooding the hall with quite a bit of light. Fili was just inside the room and seemed frozen where he stood. “Kili? Fili?” Gimli stepped forward to give the blonde prince a shake and once he did he very easily saw what had brought his cousins up short.

There was a distinct lack of gears and machines in the room. Nothing at all like what Gimli expected. What was in the chamber, however, was a single figure hanging from the ceiling from gold and jewel-studded manacles. The body was entirely nude, quite obviously male, and in the strange glow of the room, shone like a sliver of pure moonlight. He was far too thin with his ribs easily countable and his joints jutting out beneath his skin. The manacles cut into the pale skin of his bony wrists and drew ruby red blood, which left dried trails down his long thin arms and then the rest of the way down his body. It was impossible to tell if he was awake or even if he was alive for his face was hidden behind two gem-encrusted masks, one that covered his eyes and the other which wrapped around his mouth and jaw, leaving just a narrow gap for his nose to protrude. Long golden hair was a mess of lanky unwashed clumps that hung about his hidden face. But what was able to be seen through the gaps in his hair, were his ears and the way they were pulled back into an elegant point.

“Sweet Mahal… tell me that isn’t what I think it is…” Fili breathed.

Gimli couldn’t tell him that though because he wasn’t about to lie about what was right in front of his face. An elf. A terribly thin, captive, elf. “What-what’re they _doing_ to him?” Kili whispered in obvious horror. Several long glowing cords as thick around as Gimli’s own wrist were hanging from the elf and pooled on the floor beneath him before disappearing into the walls and even the floor and ceiling. One cord, somewhat smaller than the others, even went to the wall behind the elf and attached to a thick golden setting where a large white gem was radiating light near the top. Most of the light, however, was coming from the glowing cords that seemed so innocuous but also hideous.

“… he’s the Heart…” Gimli said softly. It was really the only explanation.

“What? No, that can’t be…” Fili denied though all of them could hear how weak it was. “We… we’re honorable dwarves we wouldn’t-wouldn’t do this…”

“Who is he?” Kili asked.

“I don’t know,” Gimli said. “But I’m betting he’s why we’ve got elves at our door.”

The three young dwarrows just stood there for several long minutes as the gravity and horror slowly sunk in entirely. Kili stared for several minutes more before starting to shake his head. “We have to get Thorin… this isn’t right…”

Fili instantly snapped his eyes to his brother and caught him in his grip. “No, Kili!”

“Fee! We can’t just do nothing!”

“I’m not saying we do nothing,” Fili said quickly and quietly. If the elf was just asleep, he didn’t want to wake him. He could only imagine that sleep would be a blissful unawareness of his state and that the elf could use the rest. He glanced up at the unmoving elf for a moment before turning back to his brother. “But we don’t know who all knows he’s here. Until we know who’s keeping him here, we have to be careful!”

“But Uncle Thorin wouldn’t-”

“ _Someone is_ , Kili. Someone in _our_ family has done this to him. And we can’t risk whoever it is finding out that we know and moving him somewhere we won’t find him again,” Fili reasoned harshly. Gimli slowly nodded in agreement. The mountain was huge. Who knew all the places someone could stash a sickly wounded elf? It would take decades to find him again. If they could find him again.

Kili looked as if he would defy his brother before slumping some, apparently giving into his brother’s logic. He didn’t honestly believe his Uncle could do something like this, but Fili had a point. The only ones that were actually allowed in here were members of the royal family. “But we can’t just leave him strung up like some sick trophy,” he said pointing to the elf.

“We won’t,” Gimli said instantly. “There has to be a winch or something to get him down. Help me look.”

The three young dwarrows cautiously entered the room and began carefully searching the walls and floor for any mechanism. Gimli was not exactly pleased to find that the walls were covered in etchings and inscriptions of Dwarven victory and that much of the murals were embedded with diamonds that sparkled like distant stars from the elf’s luminescence. It was all just thumbing their noses at the poor elf that had already been treated poorly. Even though the elf couldn’t see it and probably wouldn’t understand it even if he could see it didn’t matter. The intent was clear enough.

It took some searching, but Kili found a small lever tucked into one wall. He pulled it free and started to slowly and carefully lower the elf’s limp body. The winch was strangely silent. The mechanism well cared for and maintained so that it didn’t even creak as the chain slid through the gears.

The elf was definitely not awake as he crumpled upon the floor like a broken doll, his limbs sprawled into an ungainly and probably terribly uncomfortable pile. His hair spilled out around him like crushed gold leaf, and he made no effort to move. Most of the cords, the dwarves could now see, were piercing his back directly and had large unpleasant wounds peeling at the edges of them. They looked terrible and were no doubt incredibly painful.

The three of them hurried over to the broken elf and Gimli pressed his fingers to the elf’s slender neck. The mask got in the way at first, but he was able to feel a thready, quickened, pulse beating beneath the elf’s skin. He sighed. “He’s alive.”

“Have they even been feeding him?” Kili asked nobody really as he eyed the way the elf’s spine seemed to be trying to rip itself free of his skin. He’d never seen anyone so thin before. 

“Doubt it,” Fili said as Gimli slowly adjusted the elf on the ground into a more natural position. “I heard that elves can survive off just air if they need to.”

Gimli frowned at that. “They might be able to survive but how well?” he murmured. Just because you could do something didn’t mean it was really the way things should be done. “He can’t lay on his back with these things in him…”

“They look like the cords that power the forges and growing chambers,” Fili said crouching down. “We remove them, and they’ll definitely know that we’ve found him.”

“So let’s just get him out of here now!” Kili said impatiently.

“We’re three dwarves, Kili,” Fili snapped. “Do you honestly think we’ll be able to get the elf out of here without someone trying to stop us?”

Kili looked about ready to get violent in his frustration. “We can’t just… just keep leeching off him!” he hissed. “I won’t do it!”

“Kee, I understand!” Fili said as he straightened again. “Really. It makes me sick knowing we’ve just been going about our lives happy as can be and he’s been trapped in here like this. But besides getting caught again, we don’t even know what removing those things will do. It could kill him!”

The younger prince glared at his brother before turning away with a growl. He stormed off several paces but didn’t leave the chamber. “At the very least we need to get some food into him,” Gimli said as he reached down and started on the buckles of the masks. He tossed the things to the side as if they were a pair of deadly snakes and then carefully brushed the elf’s hair back away from his face. He was thin there too, with sharp cheekbones and sunken eyes. But had he some filling on him, Gimli thought he might be beautiful. Well, all elves were, of course. His eyes were partially open, and Gimli was afraid that the elf had been so close to death he’d already passed.

But no, when Gimli’s fingers brushed over the elf’s neck again he still felt a pulse. He reacted not at all when Gimli tried to get his attention so either he was that broken that he was no longer even present (a truly terrible thought), or he was asleep with his eyes open. Gimli studied the elf’s face and the blank staring look of those blue eyes and hoped dearly for the second option. Saving the elf would be bitter indeed if they were too late to save him from being anything more than a broken shell.

“Kili, go to Bombur in the kitchens… get some water for him,” Fili said.

“No. Broth,” Gimli corrected quickly. “Uncle Oin says broth is better for the ill, and he needs more than just liquid. He needs some sort of food.”

Kili nodded and hurried out of the room. “Why does he stare so?” Fili whispered without getting nearer. 

Gimli shook his head. He didn’t know, but he found it just as unsettling as Fili did. The elf’s gaze was far into the distance and his eyes unfocused but despite that it seemed as if he were only a second’s notice from coming back. Or maybe he wasn’t anywhere at all, and he was really silent and listening to them? It was insanely unnerving not being able to tell and perhaps that was why his eyes had been covered in the first place?

The thick cords got in the way of being able to comfortably hold the elf in any sort of way. The best Gimli could do was lay him on his side with his fair head cradled in Gimli’s lap. It wasn’t the preferred way he would have done it, but it would have to do. Fili crouched down beside the elf and carefully picked up one thin hand and wrist to examine the manacle there. He frowned at the bloody gold and jewels. It had clearly been around the elf’s wrist for a long while. His fair skin was torn apart under the metal. But what was worse was that the key for the door definitely would not fit the manacles. “It’s a different key. Much smaller,” Fili said softly. “We’ll either have to find the key or get someone who can pick locks.”

“Do we dare trust someone that can pick locks?” Gimli asked uncertainly. That skill didn’t exactly inspire a lot of trust.

“Surely there is someone in the mountain that can both break through locks and is trustworthy,” Fili said. “We’ll just have to find whoever it is. Until then we can try and get the elf healthier.”

“Nori?” Gimli suggested although he wasn’t sure if Nori actually _could_ pick locks or if he just ran every rigged betting pool in the mountain. He would assume Nori could, what with how Dwalin spoke but he didn’t know for certain.

Fili frowned. “We’ll have to be careful. Nori’s a decent sort usually but… this isn’t quite the same…” Helping an elf wasn’t something all dwarves would rush to do. Not to mention doing so in this instance was to most likely go against the King. “Once we figure out who we can trust we can get him out of here. Until then we’ll just have to do what we can…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a couple of you guessed this so kudos to you. I was tempted to try and draw it out even longer but I couldn't think of a way to do it without it becoming annoying and unnecessary.
> 
> Also, I seem to really enjoy hurting Legolas... I do it really quite often. It's probably not healthy... it's certainly not for Leggy...


	11. Chapter 11

It took Kili no time at all to manage to pilfer some hearty broth from Bombur and bring it back. It did however take a bit of effort to get the elf to actually drink it. It required much coaxing and all but forcing it down the elf’s throat but they slowly managed to get it into him. The elf didn’t even stir, which was quite disturbing. “Alright, first thing we have to do is figure out who we can trust,” Fili said as Gimli tried to get the elf to take the last few swallows of broth.

“Uncle Thorin,” Kili said instantly. “I _know_ he wouldn’t be a part of this.”

“Kili… Uncle Thorin _hates_ elves. And he is the next in line for the throne. We can’t just _assume_ he doesn’t know…” Fili argued. Kili immediately started to protest and defend their Uncle. “I don’t like the thought of it either be we can’t risk it,” Fili said firmly. He put a hand to his younger brother’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Soon as we know better we’ll tell him, Kee. I promise.”

Kili still looked unhappy but didn’t begin protesting again. “Ori,” Gimli suggested, mostly to get off the topic of Thorin. “We could definitely trust him.”

Fili nodded in agreement. “Yes, probably… If Dori’ll let him anywhere near us. And he’d be able to convince Nori to help even if he does know how to pick locks,” Fili mused. If there was one weak spot that Nori had it was his brothers, and especially Ori who had his two older siblings wrapped soundly around his finger. “Hell, maybe Ori will even be able to tell us who this elf is…” A fair skinned blonde elf was not terribly easy for a dwarf to identify. There were quite a few of them in the world after all.

“Dwalin thinks the heart is that thing there,” Gimli said pointing up to the large white gem that was drawing light from the elf and then radiating it outwards. “He said the Heart was a gem like that.”

“But would he care what the Heart really is?” Fili questioned before shaking his head. “Dwalin is loyal to Thorin. We’ll have to wait to tell Dwalin until we’re sure what Thorin knows.”

Gimli wasn’t fond of that idea but decided that Fili was probably right, much like he probably was about waiting to tell Thorin. It didn’t have to be something they liked though. “We’ll see if we can get Ori over here… But until then, we don’t tell anyone and we try and get the elf better,” Fili said. “These wounds of his need to be bandaged and he needs more’n just one meal.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Gimli volunteered. “You two shouldn’t be seen coming down here all the time if we’re going to try and keep this a secret and I’m still scheduled to guard the door.” And if he were caught at least Fili and Kili would still know about the elf and could hopefully help him. 

“What about the elves?” Kili asked, still a bit of a scowl on his face. “If they really are after him… shouldn’t we try’n tell them we’re trying to help?”

“And how do you figure we’ll do that?” Fili asked. “They kill dwarves on sight and it’s not like they’ll just trust us either.”

“We could sent them a letter or something,” Kili said. “We haven’t tried talking to them in hundreds of years. Surely if he’s what they’re really after they’ll be willing to talk to us again. It’s worth a shot isn’t it? Maybe they could even help us!”

Fili folded his arms and thought about that for a minute. There really wasn’t any harm in it. The worst that could happen would be the elves wouldn’t believe them and they’d still be on their own. “Maybe,” he said. “We’ll try a letter first though. I don’t fancy any of us getting shot full of arrows.”

Gimli frowned a little as he thought about that. In their history the only mention of what caused all this was a trade agreement gone horribly wrong. Who knew what the elves believed at this point. Elves supposedly never forgot but that didn’t mean they knew what had happened either. Elves were far from stupid. Gimli couldn’t imagine them believing a letter from dwarves about a prisoner that they couldn’t even name. They would need some sort of proof. Gimli eyed the elf for several moments as he thought on that. It wasn’t as if they had much of the elf’s to offer in terms of proof. Then Gimli’s gaze settled on the elf’s long golden hair. 

After setting the near empty bowl to the side Gimli separated a small section of the elf’s hair from the rest. “Gimli? What are you doing?” Kili asked in confusion as Gimli started a simple braid in the elf’s hair.

“If I were the elves I’d want proof,” Gimli said as he quickly braided the strands. “Proof that he’s alive and we can help them get him back. His hair isn’t like Dwarf hair. Maybe they’ll take this as proof.” Once he was finished braiding he section he took out his boot knife and quickly sliced the braid off. It was already trying to unravel but Gimli handed it over to his princes before it could. “It’s better than no proof at all.”

Fili looked at the long braid in his hand before nodding. Gimli did bring up a good point. “Right. Kili, you said you found the key to this place in a secret compartment, right?” Kili nodded a bit. “I want you to look through that again and see if there’s anything that can help us figure out who the elf is or how to get him out. Or even how to get those things out of his back. But you can’t get caught, understand?”

“I understand,” Kili agreed. He still didn’t agree to all this secrecy but he did understand. Dwarves weren’t people who did such things. Any dwarf who could condone it had clearly gone sick in the head. But, until they figured out just who had gone sick then he supposed his brother had a point. Obviously their great grandfather Thror must have since he commissioned this place to be built. And probably Thrain since he was now king, but other than them it was hard to tell. A sickness of the mind wasn’t always easy to identify. After all, until Kili saw this with his own eyes he would never have thought that his grandfather was anything less than the perfectly honorable and just King he always seemed to be.

“We should get him something to lay on,” Gimli said as he carefully put the elf back down on the ground and got to his feet. “And maybe some clothes.”

“There’s no way that we’ll find clothes to fit him in the mountain,” Fili said. “But we’ll see what we can find bedding wise. You just see about patching him up.” Gimli nodded in agreement. He wouldn’t be able to do much about the open wounds on the elf right then but next time he wouldn’t forget to bring bandages and ointments to ensure the wounds were taken care of. Maybe he’d even be able to snap the elf out of whatever trance he seemed to be stuck in. For once, Gimli was glad that he was being punished and forced to guard this particular door for the foreseeable future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, what is being put forth here is that the gold sickness that is canon is still sort of there... just tweaked for my own purposes. You'll find out more about just what madness is going on in poor Thrain's head later on. Promise.


	12. Chapter 12

Gandalf was somewhat surprised when he was not brought to Thranduil but rather the redheaded Captain of the Guard. It took a brief moment to recall her name from the last time that he had passed through Greenwood many centuries ago. Back then she had not been Captain of the Guard. Just Tauriel a constant companion to the Prince Legolas.

Tauriel glanced up from the map she was studying and then quickly got to her feet. “Mithrandir, the guards outside said you wished to speak with My Lord Thranduil, but he is not here,” she said.

The wizard could quite easily see that. “I took his flag flying outside to mean that he was,” Gandalf prompted.

Tauriel nodded slightly. “A ploy to mislead the dwarves. My King would much prefer to be here and rest assured will return shortly, but there were matters within Greenwood that needed his attention. If you wish to wait for him, you may, but please stay out of our way. Or you could, of course, travel to Greenwood and meet with him there,” she suggested. As long as the wizard did not get in their way she didn’t much care what he did.

“I would prefer to wait for him here,” Gandalf said. Really he didn’t dare leave Bilbo in the mountain without some ability to get to him quickly. True, he had gone too far from the Hobbit’s side in the Misty Mountains, but he had honestly not anticipated goblin trap doors. He was not going to make that mistake again. Besides, his business with Thranduil had everything to do with Erebor itself. “Until he returns, however, perhaps you can answer some questions of mine.”

Tauriel looked slightly puzzled but inclined her head a fraction. “I will if I am able, but I cannot think what questions you would have for My Lord Thranduil that I could answer.”

“They said outside that you were in charge of the siege,” Gandalf was honestly puzzled by that. There were others he would have assumed would take command before Tauriel. If he was not entirely mistaken, he had seen Haldir of Lothlorien amongst the elves. He was a proven leader.

“Yes, this is not the first time My King has been forced to leave the front, but I am more than capable,” Tauriel said firmly.

Gandalf held up a hand. “I meant no disrespect, Captain. I was merely puzzled is all.”

Tauriel frowned a bit but nodded. “It is the first time he has left me in charge,” she admitted. “But he knows I will not relent.”

“Ah, now that is what I am curious about,” Gandalf said. “What precisely has caused all this? Three hundred years is a long time to hold a grudge, even for Thranduil.” Admittedly the Elf King could be as intractable as any dwarf, but he was not known for endless warfare. At least not before this.

Tauriel’s eyes narrowed and seemed to blaze with wrath. So much so that Gandalf was honestly somewhat taken aback. “You travel this world endlessly, and you claim to not know? All Elves know what they have done! Lothlorien has sent troops to aid us, and Imladris has sent healers and even supplies in the past!”

“I have heard stories,” Gandalf said calmly and not without some amount of caution. He did not want to anger her more, but he had to ask. His suspicions were that the stories had had been reluctant to believe might very well be true given her reaction, but he wouldn’t simply assume. Not in this. “But I know better than to listen to all stories I hear, especially from those who are not at the heart of them. So I have come here to ask the truth of it.”

Still, the Captain’s eyes blazed with hatred, and she pointed towards the mountain. “Those… _dwarves_ have kidnapped Legolas, our Prince, and held him in that accursed mountain for _three hundred years_! They hold him prisoner and demand ransom! As if he is some commodity!” Her voice crackled with barely suppressed emotions not the least of which were sorrow and rage. Her arm dropped, and she took several deep breaths to calm herself. “They have brought this war upon themselves, Mithrandir. And we will not stop until we have him back.”

Gandalf nodded sadly. He had heard a rumor about it being a trade gone wrong, and he had been desperately hoping for that to have been the truth of it. That at least he would have possibly been able to smooth over. Something like this, though… this was the answer he had feared. For indeed he had heard rumor of Prince Legolas being missing and had been greatly unsettled. If there was one thing that Thranduil could never forgive it was a threat to his beloved son. He had no idea what Thror had been thinking kidnapping Legolas. Up until three hundred years ago the mountain and the Greenwood had shared a cordial relationship. Enough at least to trade regularly to the profit of both kingdoms. What possibly purpose Thror could have had to kidnap an ally’s son was utterly lost on the wizard.

Tauriel sat down heavily in her chair and buried her face in her hands for a few brief moments. The silence stretched on as she sat there but the wizard could tell she was trying to work herself up to saying something more. “In truth, Mithrandir… we have feared for several decades we will not find Legolas alive,” she said in such a low tone that Gandalf nearly missed it. “It has been three hundred years and not once have they allowed us to see or speak with him. Our King forbids any talk of it… but I think he too fears what we will find in that mountain.”

“You have never seen him?” Gandalf asked carefully. Obviously, this was painful, and he was grieved himself to hear of such things, but he had to know. He had to prod despite the pain. He would not do so if it weren’t essential and inescapable. “How do you know then, that he is within the mountain?”

Tauriel looked up, her eyes red as her hair. “Why would they lie about something such as this when it brings death and destruction down upon them?” she asked back. “But they showed us proof that they had him… They have his knives. They could not possibly have those unless they had Legolas as well. Nor could they have created fakes. The knives are masterworks of Elven smiths made specifically for Legolas by his father’s orders. There are none like them in this world. No dwarf could replicate them.”

“And how do they say that they came to keep Legolas captive?” Gandalf asked. Surely it wasn’t as if they had just collected him from his bed in the night. Legolas was a full-grown Elven prince who fought spiders and other beasts on a daily basis. He would not be easy to subdue and kidnap.

“They said they rescued him after a hunting accident,” Tauriel spat. “That he was injured, and they found him… and then demand ransom! Probably caused the accident themselves the heartless fiends!”

The wizard didn’t bother attempting to calm the Captain of the Guard. He doubted he’d be successful considering the topic. “But they said that he was alive,” Gandalf prompted. “Surely that is cause to hope for a better outcome.”

“When this first began, perhaps,” Tauriel said softly. “But you know much about elves, Mithrandir. Can you honestly say three hundred years without freedom… without the sight of stars and growing things to hear our voices that we would be hale and whole?”

Gandalf wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. It was sadly a possibility. One he did not want to dwell on for very long. “If he had passed then surely the dwarves would have ended this,” Gandalf said gently. 

Tauriel sneered, and Gandalf couldn’t help but see Thranduil in the expression. “Do you honestly think the _dwarves_ would recognize it?” she asked, her voiced strangled. “That they should come across Legolas wherever they keep him prisoner and realize that his feä long ago fled his body? No… it is our greatest fear that our Prince lays within that mountain driven to death by this injustice.”

“And Thranduil agrees with this?” Gandalf asked softly. It was frighteningly easy to picture for him. The Elven Prince laying within a stone cell as if in Reverie to never decay or change but also never to move or sing or indeed live again.

“My King cannot bear the thought,” Tauriel said, looking away. “Legolas is all he has left… If we find his son in such a state… I cannot imagine what it would do to him. Or what he would do in vengeance.” Though, in truth, Tauriel knew well that to lose Legolas would shatter the Elf King. He was already on the verge of it. He had been greatly wounded by the death of his wife, but Legolas had been his joy. The very light in his life that had kept him going and allowed for him to smile still. The Dwarves had stolen that away. They would not even concede to letting Thranduil see his son. Not even a letter or a passed along message. 

“Legolas has ever been strong willed,” Gandalf began slowly. He could recall the Elf Prince from his past visits to the Greenwood. The Prince in his memory was always merry and full of life with more than a bit of headstrong willfulness inherited from his father. “I do not think it is impossible that he is still alive.”

Tauriel closed her eyes. “I pray to the Valar you are right, Mithrandir…” But still, she was not certain if she dared to hope for such an outcome. Even the strongest wills could not last forever. And three hundred years was a long time to be captive. “But if you are not… there will be no Dwarf in Middle Earth safe from My Lord Thranduil’s wrath.”

“Perhaps I can persuade the dwarves to give Legolas back,” Gandalf suggested.

“They have stopped answering our letters,” Tauriel said. “Some hundred years ago now was the last word we heard from within that mountain. Perhaps that is because they know we will not be happy with what we find. That our worse fears are realized and Legolas has passed… perhaps the villains ended his life deliberately…”

Gandalf shook his head. Her grief over the situation was leading her to think the worst. There was no proof that Legolas was gone and so Gandalf chose to act as if he were not. At least until being proven otherwise. “I have one inside the mountain I could contact,” Gandalf said. Tauriel’s eyes snapped upwards at once. “I will see about reaching him and seeing if he can find your lost Prince.”

Tauriel’s expression was carefully guarded. “Who is this person you have inside the mountain? A dwarf?” There could be none other really. They made sure nobody could get to the mountain through the siege.

“Not a dwarf, my lady. A neutral party,” Gandalf said with a slight smile. “I thought it prudent to have him sneak inside, and now I am very glad that I did.”

“Sneak inside… how?” she demanded, getting up from her seat. “How did you get someone inside the mountain? We have not allowed any near that pile of rocks in centuries!”

“Halflings are a very capable sort and quite apt at passing by unseen,” Gandalf said calmly. “I’m afraid elves would even be hard pressed to follow his path into the mountain.”

“I would still have you tell me so that we could try,” Tauriel said firmly.

Gandalf shook his head. Helping the elves into the mountain would result only in a slaughter. He couldn’t allow that. “And still I cannot say,” he told her just as firmly. “I am sorry, but you must trust me that this is the best way. We will get Legolas back I promise you.”

Tauriel’s eyes blazed. “Perhaps you are lucky My King is not here. He has no patience for your games, Mithrandir. Even less than I do.”

The wizard frowned. “It is no game, Captain,” he said softly. “I simply am trying to save as many lives as I can.”

“You waste your efforts on dwarves,” Tauriel stated.

Gandalf’s eyes softened even further in sadness at the amount of venom in the Captain. Truly, she had reason for it, but he recalled when the she-elf was not one prone to anger and hatred. “Perhaps, my lady,” Gandalf murmured. “But still, I would try.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Kili… you’re starting to worry, _‘Amad_ ,” Fili said. “You barely ate anything at dinner and even less at breakfast.”

The younger prince made a face. “I just… I can’t eat knowing where its coming from, Fee,” Kili muttered. The first few meals after discovering the captive elf he had made himself choke down the food in front of him but it was getting harder. The elf had yet to respond to anything and that was worrying. He was still being used. Still suffering. Kili just couldn’t pretend like it was all alright when he was given the results of that suffering. Nearly all the food they had was a result of what they’d done to the elf. It made everything taste vile.

Fili sighed and sat down beside his brother. “I know it’s hard… but you’re not doing anything by not eating. You’re only punishing yourself. He’ll still suffer with or without you eating,” Fili pointed out. “If you don’t eat, he’s suffering needlessly.” He understood, truly, where his brother was coming from. But he also knew that starving themselves wouldn’t fix anything. Especially since they didn’t know yet how long it would take to smuggle the elf out of the mountain. They had sent the message offering help in retrieving the elf to the Elven King himself but the bird hadn’t yet returned. Fili figured Thranduil was trying to decide whether to trust them or not. He hoped the Elf King believed them because the princes had never been more sincere in their lives.

“It’s the fact that he suffers at all, Fili…” Kili muttered. “Gimli has said he still won’t even move.”

Fili frowned at that before looking over at the clock. “Well… it is the middle of Gimli’s shift. We could go check in on them,” he suggested. Despite the brothers worrying about the elf they had managed to resist going to check on him every day. Instead, leaving the task to Gimli. “We can even find Ori and bring him along.” They hadn’t had a chance to find Ori yet and already the need to tell someone, anyone, what they had found was crushing them. Part of Fili wanted to just carry the elf out to the middle of the mountain and tell everyone what horror they had found. But causing essentially a civil war in the mountain wasn’t the way to go.

Kili studied his brother’s face for a few minutes before nodding. He needed to _do_ something. Fili and Kili left their rooms and made their way first to the Library. Ori was probably there doing… something that they had little actual interest in. Ori always spent an inordinate amount of time with his books and scrolls but he was doing it even more since he had gotten in such trouble with his older brother.

The Libraries of Erebor were magnificent, despite Fili and Kili’s lack of interest in them. The main chamber of the library was several stories tall and filled floor to ceiling with green marble bookcases carved into the walls. Large green stained glass and gold gilded chandeliers hung from the massive arches in the ceiling. The pillars holding the roof up had been carved as well. Every inch of the pillars were decorated with scenes from their greatest epics. Smaller study rooms branched off from the main chamber and each were filled with even more books and scrolls and desks. There were countless metal ladders scattered about so that one could easily reach high shelves. On either side of the room were two massive stone stairs that spiraled up around pillars to reach the higher levels.

When the brothers didn’t immediately spot their younger friend, they made their way down the large center aisle to reach the back of the main chamber. Set behind a heavy carved door was the room that housed all of the rarest and most valuable books and scrolls that were within the mountain. It was a fairly safe bet that Ori would be there studying or possibly copying them. Sure enough, when the princes pushed the door open it only took a moment to spot Ori bent over several scrolls that had lovely golden filigree laid along the edges. “Hi there, Ori,” Kili said with a grin. “What’re ya working on?”

Ori barely looked up from the scroll in front of him. “Whatever it is, I’m not doing it,” the little scribe said.

“We’re not here for anything like that,” Fili assured the younger dwarrow. Ori looked supremely skeptical of that. Fili sat down across from Ori while Kili took the seat right beside the youngest of them. “Really, Ori. This is something important.”

“You said that about a lot of things that weren’t so important,” Ori pointed out. “Dori’s still upset about wasting his ink and I don’t want him even more upset.” Ori had been certain his oldest brother would have a heart attack when he realized that his best blue dye had been wasted in a prank. The dubious added benefit that it turned Dwalin’s beard an amusing color hadn’t seemed to help.

Fili shook his head a little. “This won’t upset Dori.”

The scribe looked between the two princes, utterly unconvinced. “Really, Ori. This is important,” Kili said softly. 

It was the utter sincerity in Kili’s voice that made Ori pause. He wasn’t used to hearing Kili’s voice like that. Usually the princes were full of mirth and mischief whenever they came to him. But this was distinctly different. They actually sounded serious. And Kili almost seemed to sound… Ori was hesitant to call it sad but there wasn’t really any better word for it. Ori glanced between the two of them again, this time taking more careful note of the expressions on their faces. Definitely serious. He’d rarely seen Fili’s face look so much like Thorin’s before. “What is it?” Ori asked warily. Anything that got the princes this serious was cause to worry.

“It’d be best to show you,” Fili said. “Come on.”

Ori hesitated another few moments before putting his work away and getting to his feet. “Alright. But it had better not be a prank,” he warned although he was beginning to think it really wasn’t. 

“I wish it was,” Kili muttered.

Ori was even more alarmed at that. This was not how he had come to expect his friends to act. They weren’t this solemn and it was becoming rather disquieting. Ori tried his best to bottle his questions as they left the library and followed the princes through Erebor. It was hard though, since Fili and Kili were leading him through some rather little used passages. They avoided the main areas of the mountain and took a round about way towards the kitchens. “Where are we going?” Ori finally asked after they took yet another passage that Ori barely ever used.

“You’ll see, Ori,” Fili said as he led the way down a narrow passage that Ori had almost walked right by.

“I didn’t even know this passage was here…” Ori murmured.

“It’s easy to miss,” Kili agreed.

Ori noticed a door at the end of the passage and instantly started deciphering the Cirth runes and other symbols engraved on it. He frowned. “The Heart Chamber?” he questioned. “We’re not allowed in there,” Ori pointed out, though he was terribly intrigued by the idea of a back door. Ori had always had a thirst for knowledge and there was a curious lack of knowledge in the mountain about what was in the chamber.

Fili and Kili didn’t bother addressing the fact that they weren’t supposed to be allowed into the chamber and instead went straight to the door. Fili rapped the door three times at very measured intervals and Ori felt his eyebrow go up in surprise. He recognized that knock easily. They had all used it in the past as a signal when doing things they oughtn’t.

The door opened a moment later and Ori was rather surprised to see Gimli standing there. “Gimli!”

“Shh,” Kili said instantly. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Is he any better, Gimli?” Fili asked even as the red headed dwarf stepped to the side to let his three friends into the almost painfully bright chamber.

Gimli shook his head. “Still just lays there. Doesn’t move an inch.”

Ori was suddenly apprehensive but followed his friends into the chamber. At first he was in awe of the carvings on the walls and the sudden shift from green to white marble that must have been difficult to procure. And then his eyes settled on the person that the others must have been referring to. He froze instantly and for once his mind had trouble processing what he was actually seeing.

Kili closed the door behind them even as Ori struggled to accept what was right before his eyes. “We told you it was important,” Kili murmured as he put a hand on Ori’s shoulder. That snapped Ori out of the majority of his surprise at least and he took a few steps closer. Most of the tall figure was hidden under a thick blanket but Ori could still easily make out enough features to tell it was no man or dwarrow under it. 

“We don’t know who he is,” Fili said for Ori’s benefit as Gimli rearranged the blankets over the elf. They had brought several for him and all but one were currently under his long body trying to at least form some sort of cushion on the hard stone floor. “You know more about elves than any of us, Ori… do you have any ideas how to help?” 

Ori had to try hard to kick start his brain. Fili and Kili wouldn’t have brought him here if they didn’t think he could help and despite the shock he wanted to. He never minded helping anyone really and this elf with his sunken cheeks and eyes obviously needed that help they were asking for. “U-uh… let’s see… how did he even get here?”

“We’re not sure,” Fili muttered. “But they have those cable things imbedded in his back. We think they’re somehow using him to power things…”

Ori blinked a bit before realizing that there were indeed several brightly glowing tubes disappearing under the blanket that hid the elf from view. Ori nodded a little more to himself than anyone else. “He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move. He doesn’t even eat. We’ve been having to pour broth and water down his throat to get anything into him…” Kili said uneasily.

Instantly that helped Ori’s brain kick start. Having actual questions to answer always seemed to help him think. “Elves don’t sleep like mortals,” he said. “They go into this trance thing with their eyes open. They call it Reverie or something like that. They don’t need to blink. They also have a deeper version of it that they use to heal themselves. He might be trying to do that and that’s why he’s not waking.”

“Is there any way we can snap him out of it because I don’t think he’s going to get much better this way,” Fili said.

Ori thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Not that I’ve read. Or, not that they’ve shared with any of us mortals,” he explained even as he knelt down beside the elf. He studied the elf’s distant blue eyes and golden hair and tried desperately to recall all the various little bits of information he had heard about how to tell what sort of elf you were dealing with. There were several different varieties after all from Galadhrim to the Sindar to Silvan and even more besides. The elves of the woodland realm that were camped outside the mountain were Silvan and such didn’t have such bright blonde hair. At least, not usually. But then again, the Silvan elves were only the majority of the elves that lived in the Greenwood. It was ruled by Sindar, which did have such golden hair. Thranduil certainly did from the stories and descriptions of him. 

“Ori?” Kili asked, noticing how quiet the little scribe had gone. “What is it?”

“I… I think he’s a Sindarin elf…” Ori muttered.

“Oh. What does that mean?” Kili asked. It sounded a bit like gibberish to him.

“The elves of Greenwood are Silvan… but their King is _Sindarin_ ,” Ori explained. “This isn’t King Thranduil but… I know he had a son…” He really truly hoped he was wrong. But he didn’t think he was. Why else would Thranduil be so determined?

The silence at that statement was nearly oppressive. “Are you telling me… you think this is Thranduil’s son?” Fili asked. Ori hesitated for a moment before nodding. “The elf that’s rampaging outside, curses our defenses, and rules the entire forest realm?” Again Ori nodded.

“Oh hell…”

“No wonder the elves won’t leave…” Gimli muttered. It was bad enough when they thought the elf was just one that could hold any sort of position. Any nameless elf really. But for him to possibly be the bloody Prince of the realm… that was far worse.

“ _Now_ can we tell Uncle Thorin?”

Fili glared some at his brother for the question. “Nothing’s changed really. We just have a better idea who he is. Do you remember his name, Ori?”

Ori shook his head. “No. But I’m sure I can look it up. I’ve seen a family tree in our records somewhere.” That was how he knew that Thranduil had a son after all. But it had been a while since he’d seen it. “I’ll look for it first thing.”

“Good. Also… we need someone who can pick a lock. Does Nori know how?”

Ori gave the older prince a dry look. “Of course he can. I’ll bring him by.”

“Thank you, Ori.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so glad people are enjoying this! It makes me eager to write more!

It didn’t take very much for Ori to convince Nori to help though it did take longer for the sneak-thief to manage to pick the locks on the elf’s manacles. Gold, while very pretty and expensive, was not the best metal to use for mechanical things. It was a softer metal than iron and Nori had to be very careful or risk getting the chains stuck around the elf’s wrists with a busted lock. He muttered and cursed at the things but managed to get them unlocked with no small amount of patience. Ori swore his brother to secrecy about the whole thing to which Nori had just snorted and said he knew better than to go blabbing about things like this.

It had been a week since then and though Gimli continued to tend to the elf, the blonde had yet to stir. Dori had found out through his brothers about the whole thing (something Ori had nearly been in tears about since he’d been the one that hadn’t managed to keep it secret) and had somehow managed to smuggle them an actual mattress made for the elf’s height. Gimli wasn’t sure how he managed it but was glad that the often times prim eldest brother Ri had done so. Perhaps it was just Gimli’s imagination but he thought the elf looked like he relaxed more when he was on the actual cushion opposed to the blankets. Dori hadn’t shown any indication of going to the King about their plans either and Nori assured Gimli that none of the brothers Ri (no matter their formal education) were as stupid as that.

Gimli heard the signal at the door and carefully put the bandages he had been changing down beside the elf and got up. He went to the door and opened it cautiously. He really was beginning to wish for some way to look out and see who was at the door before opening it. There were beginning to be quite a few more people that knew about the situation than he had anticipated.

Fili was on the other side and held up a few bottles of ale. He looked incredibly haggard and Gimli didn’t like that Kili wasn’t with him. Still, the younger dwarrow stepped aside and let his prince in. “What is it?”

“Thorin,” Fili said shortly as he came in and Gimli closed the door.

The red head paused and looked at Fili with no small amount of trepidation. “What about Thorin? He doesn’t know about this does he?” That would _crush_ Kili. Well all of them really because Thorin was… well he was Thorin. None of them could think such a horrible thing of him. He wasn’t the King but he was perhaps the most awe inspiring honorable dwarf that any other would follow. He just oozed dignity like the kings of old.

“I can’t tell!” Fili said in exasperation. He sat down against the wall and pulled the cork out of one of his bottles. “Every time I try to lead up to the Heart Chamber and what the Heart might actually be he tells me it’s not my place to know yet,” he explained. Gimli frowned a little but went back to wrapping the elf’s wounds. “He’s always said that though so I don’t know if he knows and is trying to hide it or if he doesn’t know and that’s just him being Thorin!”

Gimli glanced up from the elf he couldn’t help but think of as his to look at his cousin. “Maybe we should take the risk and just spit it out?” he suggested.

Fili looked incredulous at that. “And if he does know?”

“What if he doesn’t?” Gimli asked back. “He’s been trying to find a way to break the blockade of elves for ages. Well, he’s not going to do it without the Elf King’s son and we both know it. Plus, King Thrain is doing this and Thorin deserves to know.”

Fili sighed and took a long drink from his bottle. “Gimli… I don’t know if I can make myself ask…” he muttered. “If Thorin does know about this… He’s been like a second father to me and Kee… It would destroy everything if he knew about this and was just letting it happen.”

“That’s not worth destroying another family for, Fili,” Gimli murmured firmly. 

“I know…” Fili sighed heavily and looked up at the ceiling of the Heart Chamber. After several long minutes he looked back down at where Gimli was wrapping the elf’s raw wrists with fresh bandages. “How about him? Any change?”

Gimli shook his head. “No. I’m really starting to worry about it…” It had already been two weeks since they found him and if it weren’t for the elf still having a heart beat then Gimli would fear he was tending to a corpse. But no. His heart was still beating and so they must have hope that they would manage to save him. 

“Hopefully Ori finds out more about Elven ways. Maybe it’ll give us some clues,” Fili muttered before taking another drink from his bottle. “I wish we had a reply from the Elf King already. What could be taking him so long to decide?”

“Perhaps this is not the first time he’s had such an offer after all,” Gimli ventured. “He can’t possibly trust us very much. We don’t know what happened that left the Prince here in the mountain like this.”

“Well, that’s a horrible thought. Wish you hadn’t come up with it,” Fili said. The idea that other dwarrows had tried this before and failed was… depressing and quite horrible. Because, if that _had_ happened… what happened to those dwarves that had tried it? Probably nothing good. All the more reason for secrecy about the whole thing. “Dwalin isn’t going to take you off guard duty anytime soon right, Gimmers?”

Gimli shook his head. “At least not until his beard turns back to normal. Although I think Bombur’s getting worried the amount of soup that I keep asking for. I’ve never been one to order plain broth before.”

“Who is?” Fili asked dryly. It was only plain broth after all. It didn’t even have bits of vegetable or meat in it. “I’ll talk with Bombur… try and keep him from asking too many questions,” he said with a sigh. He really hoped that he got some answers soon because he wasn’t sure if he could continue trying to keep this a secret. The people that knew them best were definitely noticing they were preoccupied and they were running out of excuses. The mountain was large indeed but dwarves tended to know when their own were acting off. At least, usually. Fili glanced at the elf again and shook his head. 

“How’s Kili holding up?” Gimli asked as he carefully tucked the elf’s hand back under the blanket.

“Oh, you know him… stupid ideas abound everywhere,” Fili muttered. “He now has it in his head to go out and talk to the elves himself.”

Gimli’s head snapped up at that. “He’ll get shot on sight.”

Fili was in the midst of a drink but nodded and gestured to Gimli with his free hand. “That’s what I say,” he agreed when he lowered the bottle. “But you know how he is with his harebrained schemes. Seems to think he can talk sense into the Elf King. Like he could talk sense into anything much less an Elf that already hates our guts.”

“Good thing he can’t get out of the mountain,” Gimli muttered.

“I’ve got Loni keeping an eye on him to make sure of it,” Fili muttered.

Gimli gave his cousin a skeptical look. “The guard that both of you slipped within a day of being assigned to him?” he asked. “You sure that’s the best to keep an eye on Kili?”

Fili shrugged. “Maybe not but Kili would have to find a way _out_ of the mountain first. All the old secret ways are hidden. And we haven’t been told about them either,” he muttered sourly. There were too many secrets in this mountain for his liking. Far too many. He took another drink to try and wash the bitterness out. It didn’t work really.

Fili stayed for a while longer but Gimli didn’t really mind. It was eerie with only a staring elf for company and Fili just needed to have someone to listen to him. Kili would only continue to harp on going to Thorin and Fili didn’t want to hear it. Not right now. Not when he was beginning to truly fear that Thorin wasn’t the dwarf that he was supposed to be.

When he had finally finished his drinks however, Gimli had barely partaken in any of the pilfered alcohol, Fili got to his feet. “I was hoping to come to a decision in all that,” he muttered as he gathered up the bottles. “I guess I should have known better.” 

“I think it’s because you already know what you have to do,” Gimli said. “You just don’t want to do it.”

Fili glared slightly at his cousin but the anger melted after only a moment. He nodded and looked back at the still elf. “I wish this was easier…” Going to Thorin and demanding to know if he knew about an imprisoned elf was… not at all what he wanted to do. He knew already he’d have to build himself up to it. “I’ll do it though… soon.”

“Do you really think Thorin could know?” Gimli asked as Fili went to the door of the chamber.

“I don’t know,” Fili admitted. “That’s the worst part, Gimli. I’ve always looked up to Thorin. We all have… I can’t believe I’m even questioning if he knew or not but I have to! How can I not question my Uncle? It’s terrible and I don’t want to be the sort of Dwarrow that can’t trust his own Kin.”

It was silent for a moment before Fili went to open the door with a sigh. If this was what leadership was like he wished he had been born second. Just as he got the door open Gimli laid a hand on his shoulder. Fili paused and looked back at his cousin. “Trust in Thorin, Fili,” he said. “You’ve known him all your life. Trust you know him better than you think you do.”

“If he wasn’t an elf I wouldn’t even hesitate,” Fili admitted. “But you know how Uncle feels about elves… and the woodland King specifically…”

Gimli frowned and looked back at where the prince was laying under his blanket. “Yes… and if Thorin continues to blame said woodland King after finding out about this then we may worry.”

“You think he doesn’t know?” Fili asked in a near hopeful whisper.

“I feel I must hope that is the case,” Gimli replied.

The golden Prince of Erebor nodded. “Thank you, Cousin. I will think on your words and face my Uncle soon,” Fili promised. Gimli gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and let Fili go. Just as he was about to close the door, Gimli paused. He swore he heard the sound of bare feet on stone. A very odd noise indeed for the mountain. But when he looked around there was no source that could make such a noise. Shaking his head, Gimli put it out of his mind as a trick of his imagination and closed the door to the Chamber.


	15. Chapter 15

Bilbo ran as fast as he could to the nearest growing chamber, where he tended to spend his time when he wasn’t snooping around. He ripped the ring off of his finger the second he got into the strange indoor garden and had to take several moments to calm himself. He had followed the blonde prince of Erebor because he had noticed him and his brother acting oddly and disappearing for long periods of time. He had not in any way expected what he had seen when he’d finally managed to follow Fili all the way to his destination. He wasn’t sure what he expected but an elf locked in a room with little more than a mattress had certainly not been it. Besides, what had even been going on in that room? He’d barely gotten much of a look at the elf and what he did see hadn’t made sense to him.

The hobbit sat down on the edge of one planter and tried to get a hold of himself. He needed to contact Gandalf. Yes. That was definitely the thing to do. But how did one do that? Gandalf hadn’t actually given him any sort of hints. What was he supposed to just start talking to nothing and hope Gandalf somehow heard him? That struck him as a particularly terrible idea.

Bilbo ran his hands through his curly hair and wished for a cup of tea to calm his nerves. He could do this. Really. He was a Baggins. He could figure something out. He… just rather wished that he would already. How _was_ Gandalf imagining Bilbo would relay his information anyway? He hadn’t really said at all. “Oh, confound it and botheration,” he muttered as he got to his feet and paced a few steps away. Perhaps a letter? Oh, but how would he have it delivered?

Well, maybe he should write it and then worry about how to send it later. But he didn’t have any paper. Or a pen for that matter. He turned on his heel and paced the other way for a few steps. It shouldn’t be that hard to find a pen and paper. Although he’d have to be careful of course. Seeing a pen writing by itself might cause some panic. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. This was getting to be quite complicated. He simply had to get word to Gandalf about this.

Perhaps he should just leave the mountain and tell Gandalf. Bilbo wouldn’t mind not having to sneak around anymore. Bilbo paused in his pacing. Yes. Yes, that sounded like a very fine idea indeed. He would use the elven rope to leave the mountain and find Gandalf. Let the wizard deal with things like imprisoned elves. With that decided, Bilbo calmed himself a bit. Having a plan was very good. Well, the majority of a plan. He would still have to _find_ Gandalf but that shouldn’t be too hard.

Just then, Bilbo heard the most heart-stopping noise. Very heavy dwarven footsteps were coming his way. He spun to look at the door. Of all the times for someone to want to walk the gardens! Dwarves didn’t do that all that often, and Bilbo rather liked that fact. He quickly reached into his pocket for the ring. His eyes widened to incredible size when all he felt was nothing. A slight noise of panic escaped his throat as he felt around even more frantically. His finger caught something in his pocket, and he quickly pulled the entire pocket out. He saw no ring, but he did see a hole in the corner of the seam. Apparently, traveling and sleeping in this jacket had left far too much wear and tear on the garment.

Bilbo looked up as the footsteps got closer and quickly dropped to the floor to search for any little glimmer of gold. He had to find it! He just had to! He _needed_ it! “Where is it? Where is it?” he asked as he scrambled along the edge of the planter looking for where it might have fallen. “Oh, come on! Please!”

The footsteps were almost to the entrance to the chamber and Bilbo risked a glance over his shoulder in that direction before turning back to his search. It had to be right here! It just had to be! But they were almost here! Bilbo nearly shook with the inability to decide what to do but then dove behind a larger planter just as the owner of the footsteps came into the room. He cursed mentally and crawled further behind the planter, being sure to stay as low as he possibly could. Hopefully, whoever it was wasn’t about to spend a long time wandering through the planters. Bilbo’s hiding spot was only working because he could stay nearly on the floor and the planter was unusually deep. It wouldn’t work if whoever was in the room decided to move around too much.

He needed to find that ring! It had to have fallen into a planter bed or wedged itself into a crack on the floor or something. Bilbo just needed some time to look for it. And hopefully, the dwarf that was now in the room with him wouldn’t notice any little rings hanging about before Bilbo could. Bilbo couldn’t let someone else find it!

Bilbo nearly groaned when he heard more footsteps coming closer. “Bifur! Are you in here, Bifur?” a jolly sounding voice called. Bilbo risked peeking around the edge of the planter to see a dwarf with a strange, ragged hat on his head enter the chamber. “Bifur! Thought I’d find you here,” he greeted jovially. The other dwarf looked surprised and started saying something in a language Bilbo had only heard snippets of in his snooping along with several complex looking hand signs. Or… maybe he was just fiddling with his hands for no reason. It was really quite hard to tell.

Bilbo couldn’t help but notice the two dwarves seemed to share quite a few similarities in their appearance. Though the one without the hat had quite a bit more white streaked through his hair than the other did. Of course, he also had what looked to be a giant piece of wood imbedded in his skull as well. It was a gruesome injury but looked quite old. Old enough that the wooden peg had been healed _around_. Bilbo couldn’t imagine what could have possibly caused such an injury.

The two dwarves were close by the exit so, as carefully as he possibly could, Bilbo eased back towards the other side of the cavern. He wouldn’t have as much cover from the planters, as they all seemed shorter than the one he was behind, but hopefully, he’d be harder to spot through the plants. Then once the dwarves were gone he’d find his ring and not be foolish enough to take it off until he was well and truly out of this confounded mountain.

Bilbo tried to sneak as carefully as he could until he heard footsteps. His eyes widened, and he looked around for a better place to hide. The best he could figure to do was to try and get around the corner of the planter that he was crawling past. He wished it were a bit deeper, but it wasn’t so he glanced down either way before hurrying towards the fountain. That was at least something substantially he could hide behind.

He almost sighed in relief as he managed to get behind the fountain and not hear any sort of indication that he had been spotted. He glanced behind him and saw the one with the wood in his head examining the different plants and looking quite content. Bilbo was a little surprised. Most dwarves he’d noticed in these gardens looked terribly bored. He shrugged a little before looking around for the other dwarf. He didn’t see that one and that was a little worrisome. Maybe he’d left? He hadn’t been paying very close attention to where they were in his scramble to find a better hiding spot.

The Hobbit backed further behind his hiding spot, still looking for any sign to tell if there were one or two dwarves around. As he quickly backed up, Bilbo sudden felt himself bump into something. He frowned in confusion. There shouldn’t have been anything behind him. Bilbo slowly looked up over his shoulder to see a very surprised looking dwarf pausing in lighting a pipe. Oh dear. “Well, hello there,” the dwarf said lightly even though he hadn’t moved any. “What are you doing down there, then?”

Bilbo opened his mouth a few times as he struggled with something to say. Finally, he managed and faint smile. “I’ve lost something,” he offered in what barely went past a whisper.

The dwarf with the hat nodded a bit. “Oh, I see. Bad luck that… but, uh, might I ask… who are you?”

Oh, he wanted very much to have his ring. This was terrible. “Bil-Bilbo Baggins,” he answered because honestly… why not? He was already spotted and maybe if he kept being polite this nice looking dwarf with the sketchy hat wouldn’t call the guards.

The dwarf nodded again. “Not a dwarf are you?” Bilbo shook his head. That was too obvious after all. He hadn’t a hint of a beard and his feet, as fine as they were, were not dwarf feet. The dwarf hummed and shook his light out. “That’s not a good thing.”

Bilbo grimaced. "... I suppose not, no."


	16. Chapter 16

Thorin scowled and oversaw the building teams and engineers as they tried to move the rubble. One of the damnable elvish catapults had hit just right along the side of the mountain to collapse a support. The brace had fallen from several stories and crushed a house. It was unclear at the moment if any of the occupants had been inside at the time. The crash had shaken the whole mountain and brought dwarves rushing to help. It was only natural after all. Every dwarf knew the sound of a support breaking. It was something that had to be dealt with immediately. Even as the primary team tried to clear the destruction, another team was working new metal struts to reinforce the now dangerously unenforced part of the mountain.

The scaffold and struts were an ugly patchwork mass of metal and stone but it was strong and would serve until those that worked in the forge could make new iron reinforcements to the exact size needed. Already the measurements were being taken to hurry down to the forges. The large pieces of stone were being shunted off to side streets for the time being and would eventually be used somewhere else. Probably to support another part of the mountain that needed it.

Thorin wanted to jump in and help move the wreckage, but sometimes too many helping hands were just as if not more damaging than not enough. He gritted his teeth and cursed the elves yet again for wreaking such havoc upon his home. It would still take hours to clear all the destruction away, and Thorin was determined to stay should he be needed. He wasn’t at all sure what if any help he would end up being, but he was the Crowned Prince. He couldn’t just let his people suffer without trying to do something.

And so, that was where Thorin was when Dwalin found him. Standing near and slightly above the destroyed house and glaring at it with all the fury he could muster. Thorin barely gave his friend a first glance much less a second. “Still no word on if there was anyone inside,” Thorin said, his voice dark and thunderous. With how long it was taking to clear everything away if there were anyone within the house they would have most likely been crushed by now. He did not like not knowing.

“Thorin,” Dwalin said putting a hand to his Prince’s shoulder. He leaned close and Thorin frowned. Dwalin rarely bothered to whisper anything. His frown deepened to an outright scowl when he heard what his guard had to say. Thorin turned, and Dwalin nodded in answer to the silent question.

“Take me there,” Thorin ordered. Though he wanted to stay and oversee the aftermath of the collapse this news was not something he could ignore either.

The two dwarves hurried through the halls of Erebor and down the many stairs. Far beneath the forges in an out of the way corner of the mountain they came to a series of cell doors. The last cell door was the one they had in their sights. Thorin didn’t hesitate in entering the cell and Dwalin waited outside.

The Crowned Prince let his eyes wander over their captive. It wasn’t an elf but rather a person shorter than even a dwarf although not nearly as stocky. He had a head of dark sandy colored curls and surprisingly large bare feet that had curls to match the ones on his head. “So, you are the spy,” Thorin said instead of a greeting.

The little creature blinked several times. “Spy? I’m no spy,” he denied rather indignantly as he got to his feet. Again Thorin was surprised at just how large they were in relation to the rest of him. 

“No?” Thorin questioned. “I find that hard to believe. The Elves have ever longed to sneak inside our home, and now we find you hiding amongst us with elven rope under your shirt. Did Thranduil send you?”

The little spy seemed to look genuinely perplexed, but Thorin wasn’t fooled. “Th… Thranduil… Thranduil,” He said, acting as if he had to puzzle the name out. “Nope. Never met anyone named such a thing.”

“Really? You expect me to believe that Elven snake hasn’t sent you?” Thorin demanded.

“I swear to you I have spoken to no elves at all,” the spy insisted. “Not a one.”

“Then where did you get the rope?”

The prisoner held up one finger as if about to say but then paused. Thorin waited with a small bit of grim amusement as the prisoner seemed to be caught. But then, rather surprisingly he smiled. “A wizard,” he said as his smile turned a bit sheepish; as if he realized how ridiculous that excuse sounded. “He might have got it from an Elf, though. I mean it had to come from an elf at some point, I’d imagine.”

Thorin scowled at the captive. “So, you claim you are not a spy and not sent by the elves… who are you then?” he demanded. He didn’t really believe that this creature wasn’t here to spy on them for the elves, but perhaps he could get some information out of him anyway.

“I’m a Hobbit, not a spy,” the spy said with a dignified sniff. He adjusted his worn waistcoat and seemed to try and stand a bit taller. “Bilbo Baggins is my name, and I have told you the truth.”

“Well, Master Baggins,” Thorin began as he paced a few steps in the cell. “If you are not a spy then maybe a thief? Did that pale spider send you here to steal something from us perhaps? Tell me, what one of our treasures does that faithless crook want?”

The Hobbit frowned. “What makes you think he wants any treasure at all?” he asked in confusion.

Thorin scoffed. “He sits outside our home for centuries wringing his greedy hands together for our treasure. Ever has he coveted our riches! Hounded us for our heritage! He sits outside like a coward and tries to bully us into submission. Well, we are not so easily bullied!”

“Well, now, I don’t think that’s quite the whole of it,” Bilbo protested with a disapproving frown. “After all, he’s not the one with captives, now is he?”

“Is that what he is telling people now?” Thorin asked with narrowed eyes. “That we have captives? Ridiculous! He spreads lies to earn sympathies but in truth, he is just covetous and false.”

Bilbo folded his arms over his chest. “I told you, I’ve spoken to no elves. I’ve seen it with my own eyes! In this very mountain!”

“There are no elves in this mountain,” Thorin denied. “You are in our cells and I know you could see quite clearly there were no weed-eating tree-huggers joining you down here.”

“Then you have an extraordinarily tall dwarf locked away,” Bilbo said indignantly, his little nose up in the air. “I know what I saw, Thorin Oakenshield. That room was a cell sure as these are and it was no Hobbit locked in it.” He wasn’t about to be lied to right to his face. 

Thorin’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Your story gets ever more impossible with each thing you say, Hobbit,” Thorin said.

“Well then maybe you should ask your nephew,” Bilbo challenged. “He was the one I followed to the elf.”

Thorin glared. It was ridiculous. It was impossible! Utterly insane to think that they had a captive elf in the mountain. They would have used such a thing ages ago to end this onslaught if it were true. And to insinuate that his nephews had something to do with it was preposterous all on its own! How would Fili or Kili ever get an elf? Much less without Thorin’s knowledge. With an annoyed huff, Thorin spun and left the cell and the lying little Hobbit. 

“Did he tell you anything?” Dwalin asked as they left the cells.

Thorin snorted in derision. “Fanciful tales about wizards and captive elves,” he said. “Claims that he hasn’t even spoken to an elf and pretended to not know Thranduil at all.”

“Captive elves?” Dwalin echoed.

“Yes,” Thorin said. “Perhaps he is not a spy and is simply damaged in the head.”

“Quite sneaky for a mad man,” Dwalin mused. “He got very far into the mountain before he was spotted. Makes me wonder how he did it.”

Thorin waved a dismissive hand. “Probably elven trickery.” He was insanely annoyed that there was someone spreading rumors about them holding captives. He knew Thranduil was a liar, but this was a level he hadn’t thought that even the Elf King would stoop. And then that Hobbit accusing his nephews! His nephews wouldn’t be able to capture an elf seeing how they never left the mountain! Much less, if they had, they wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret from him.

Thorin slowed his pace considerably. Then again… Fili and Kili had been acting rather strangely lately. Kili wasn’t eating well, and Fili kept asking questions about the Heart of the Mountain that he really shouldn’t. Not to mention how they sometimes disappeared for seemingly no reason. They had skipped an entire lesson with Balin yesterday. Thorin shook his head hard. That was a stupid thought. Fili and Kili were always up to something. Surely it was just another prank that they were planning. Although, Fili’s questions were becoming a bit worrisome. He’d never shown such interest in the Heart of the Mountain before.

He and Dwalin parted halfway up the mountain. Thorin wanted to get back to overseeing the cleanup efforts, and Dwalin had other things to do dealing with the royal guard. Thorin couldn’t believe that little spy had even managed to make such ridiculous doubt enter his head for a second. His nephews were obviously preoccupied, but that meant very little really. Certainly nothing such as an enemy captive. It wasn’t as if Thorin hadn’t been preoccupied himself lately. His tunnel efforts had taken most of his attention.

Caught up with his own thoughts, Thorin almost missed it when one of the nephews in question rushed past him. He blinked a little as what he saw registered after a moment. “Fili?”

The older of his two nephews froze and turned. “Uncle Thorin. I thought you were at the accident site,” Fili said, looking every bit the child caught with his hand firmly in the cookie jar.

“I was earlier. Were you looking for me?” Thorin asked.

“Not specifically, no…”

Thorin nodded a little even as he examined his nephew closer. Despite his belief that there was no way the Hobbit had been telling the truth Fili _was_ acting rather off. “Fili, are you alright? You seem to be… preoccupied lately,” Thorin said. That was perhaps an understatement. A thought suddenly occurred to Thorin, and he grinned. “You’re not sneaking out to see some lucky Dwarrow are you?”

“Thorin! No!” Fili protested immediately. He sighed and ran a hand through his blonde mane. “Actually… I was looking for Kee. He was supposed to be in our rooms, but he wasn’t there.”

“Ah,” Thorin nodded a bit. That made sense. Kili was forever getting into something or another and Fili always at least tried to stop him. Usually didn’t succeed but he would try. The fate of a long-suffering older brother that Thorin knew perfectly well. “If I see him, I’ll send him home.”

“Thanks,” Fili said. “He’s going to be the death of me, I swear.” Thorin chuckled some and made to head back to the accident site. Why would he have even thought his nephews were up to something other than their usual antics? Somehow that little Hobbit had gotten under his skin. “Actually, Thorin… can I talk to you?” Fili called before he’d gone more than five steps away.

The Crowned Prince of Erebor paused and turned back to his nephew. “Of course, Fili,” he said, though he didn’t like how nervous Fili looked. “What about?”

“… The Heart of the Mountain.”

Thorin sighed heavily. “Why do you keep asking about that?” he asked. “Fili, I told you, you’ll know about it when you’re ready to know-”

“Do you?” Fili said suddenly.

Thorin was surprised at being interrupted. “Do I what?”

“Do you know about it?” Fili asked, suddenly looking as if he was about to march to war or something. His expression was certainly grim enough. 

“Fili, I’m beginning to really worry about this preoccupation you have with the Heart Chamber,” Thorin admitted. 

“It’s just… I heard this rumor about the Heart Chamber…” Fili said, seemingly very uncomfortable.

Thorin studied Fili carefully he did seem strangely upset. “I’m getting very tired of hearing strange and impossible things today, Fili. I just heard the most insane story from a spy about captive elves, and I don’t want to get into another discussion about things that don’t need to be discussed. Whatever it is, its probably not true.”

Thorin was a bit surprised when Fili seemed to deflate. He almost seemed… relieved? “You don’t know then… good. That’s good…”

“Don’t know what? Fili, what are you talking about already? I’m sick of the games!” Thorin said firmly.

Fili grabbed his wrist. “Come with me. I need to show you something, Thorin. You won’t believe me if you don’t see if for yourself.”

“If it will make you stop talking in riddles, fine,” Thorin agreed. 

Fili led the way through the mountain. Thorin tried to not get impatient, but it was hard what with how oddly Fili was acting. It had taken several minutes of walking before they ended up in a hall Thorin couldn’t recall spotting before. Then again he wasn’t often around the kitchens, so maybe that was why. He was less surprised than he felt he should have been when they reached a door that had familiar symbols on it. “Fili-”

“Uncle, please,” Fili said. “It’s important.”

Thorin sighed heavily at that. He didn’t know what could possibly be so important but waved for Fili to continue. The door was most likely locked anyway. All the doors to the Heart Chamber were always locked. Fili knocked on the door and to Thorin’s surprise, it opened after only a few minutes.

Gloin’s son was on the other side, and he looked a bit shocked to see them. “Prince Thorin… Fili…”

“It’s alright, Gimli. Really,” Fili said. “Thorin doesn’t know.”

“I’d like to know what I apparently don’t know already if that’s alright,” Thorin said in annoyance. What was with the big secrecy anyway? He would wonder how they got the key to the Heart Chamber later and probably tell his father that he needed another lock made. There shouldn’t be any way to get inside of the chamber after all. Nobody was al-

Thorin’s thoughts abruptly halted when he finally stepped into the chamber and saw what exactly his nephew had been talking about. The Hobbit’s words came back to him instantly. _”Then you have an extraordinarily tall dwarf locked away… I know what I saw, Thorin Oakenshield. That room was a cell sure as these are and it was no Hobbit locked in it.”_

“Thorin?” His eyes flicked over to Fili instantly. “We found him a few weeks ago… we wanted to tell you but… we weren’t sure if you knew or not.”

Thorin’s eyes went back to the bandaged elf that was in the middle of the chamber and unmoving. “I did not.”


	17. Chapter 17

Thorin stared at his own reflection in his mirror without really seeing it as he took a comb to his hair. He’d been combing the same section for the past several minutes without even realizing it. He was still rather shocked by the entire situation. So much so that he didn’t even fully recall coming back to his rooms. Never in a thousand years would he have thought the Hobbit was telling the truth. Never. It was just preposterous. And yet, he couldn’t deny what he’d seen with his own two eyes.

He’d never seen an elf so thin before. They were all slender but that one… there was a very distinct difference.

He blinked and managed to bring himself back to the present. Now that he knew about this something had to be done. Thorin frowned as he thought. How could he possibly do anything about this at all? He knew he could trust quite a number of dwarrows within the mountain, but the second they tried to remove the elf all of Erebor would lose power. Such a thing would be instantly noticed, and forces would swoop down upon them. He sighed and put his comb down on his dresser. How could this have happened?

Thorin rubbed his hand over his face. Thrain had never mentioned much about the Heart and Thorin hadn’t really been interested. Now he wished dearly that he had thought to ask more questions before hand. To think that all this time it had been an _elf_ … it grated on him. The very idea that perhaps the elves weren’t actually after their gold like he’d always been told was alien to him. It was something he wanted to shy away from thinking about. He had to force himself not to do so. 

Of all things… it had to be an elf.

Anxious to put anything above the elf in his mind, Thorin picked up his comb again and undid the short braids in his beard. Ever since the mine collapse that had taken his brother and all but shattered their family, he’d kept his beard only just long enough to put the most basic of braids in. He would let it grow out, but made a habit of cutting it back every time his people suffered another loss like the one that had robbed the world far too early of his bright little brother. He wanted the people to know that he mourned the losses the same as they did. Thorin eyed his short beard critically for a moment. He’d last cut it a few months ago, and it was now growing out to an almost respectable length again.

As he worked the last bit of his beard free of braids, his traitorous mind refused to stay on such a safe topic. It wandered back to the damnable elf. He couldn’t just ignore the situation he knew, but what in Mahal’s name was he supposed to do with it? What could he do with it? Getting rid of the elf would doom his people surely. And keeping him around wasn’t something he could do either! Obviously, the elves wanted him back! And for some Mahal-Damned reason, his father was still keeping the fey creature here! Why!? Well, it was obvious _why,_ he supposed. He was powering everything from lights to the massive forges apparently, however in the hell he managed that. But surely it wasn’t worth the lives of their people!

With a growl of frustration, Thorin picked up a pair of sharp little scissors. 

Why was Thrain allowing this to continue? His father was better than this! And why was Thorin himself hesitating at all? Perhaps because he remembered his first thoughts upon seeing the elf. They were not as honorable as he would have wished them to be.

He could quite distinctly remember thinking: _finally_. That they had _finally_ gotten one of the point-eared bastards. That one of them would finally be forced to answer for all the dwarven lives lost. For the years of meager food and constant threat. He would finally make _someone_ pay for Frerin’s death. For all the families that had lost someone to the tunnel and mine collapses, to slow starvation, to the early slaughters of those trying to escape the mountain. The fact that the elf was lying there apparently unconscious, little more than skin and bones, and already bandaged had barely registered. Rage long forced to be bottled for lack of a real target had been all too happy to rise up at the sight of an elf close enough to strangle. And so easy to strangle. His thin little neck wouldn’t take hardly any effort to squeeze shut.

Thorin didn’t even recall taking the few steps into the room, but thankfully Gimli son of Gloin stepped in front of him before he could even cross half of the chamber. He wasn’t certain if Gimli realized Thorin had seen only an enemy at first or not. The younger dwarf certainly hadn’t said anything to that point, but the abrupt blocking of Thorin’s line of sight had managed to shake the crowned prince out of his instinctive move towards his lifelong enemy.

Thorin did his best to push down his urge to violence and instead covered his move by telling Fili to show him the elf. As soon as the blanket was pulled back, however, Thorin wished very much that he hadn’t asked. The elf’s body was sickening and not because it was so elongated and pale. His entire torso was hidden behind bandages that had to be woven through all of the thick cords somehow attached to his back. His joints stuck out far too much, and Thorin was unpleasantly reminded of some of the harsher winters that they’d had to endure. Although even those winters had not left any dwarves looking as thin as this elf did now. 

He hadn’t managed to stay for more than a moment after seeing that and had left the supposed sanctuary of his rooms. Thorin sighed and put down his scissors and brushed his fingers over his chin. He had chopped it all off. He could no longer even braid his beard as it covered his chin and little else. No dwarf kept a beard so short, but then no honorable dwarf would keep a prisoner in such a pitiable state either. Though Thorin had not ordered it and had not even touched the elf, he wasn’t much better. He would have done something. He wasn’t sure what, but he knew it wouldn’t have been what a Crowned Prince of Erebor should do. It was only because he was stopped by Gimli that he had managed to get a hold of himself and his irrational hatred. And he did realize it was irrational. At least, it was irrational to take all the pains of their people out against one that from the look of things had been held a prisoner for decades at least. 

No, he would behave as honor dictated he should. But until things were resolved and he was certain that both his and his family’s nobility were intact or restored, whichever it may be, he would keep his beard shorn. He would regain his pride after he made sure that it wasn’t built upon the suffering of another.

He heard a knock on the door and called for whoever it was to enter. Thorin wasn’t really surprised to see Fili there. “Thorin… is everything alright? You left very quickly…”

Thorin didn’t answer right away and instead tried to get used to the feeling of having such short hair on his chin. “Who is he?” He figured it was obvious enough that he wasn’t alright since _nothing_ about the situation was alright.

“Ori thinks he’s King Thranduil’s son,” Fili said.

Thorin whipped around instantly at that. “The Prince?” he echoed.

Fili nodded. “Yes, he’s looking for a family tree to find his name, but Ori seemed pretty certain he was Thranduil’s son. Something about his hair… I’m not quite sure.”

Of all the elves that it could possibly be. It had to be that spider’s spawn. Of course. Thorin tried hard to not groan even as he sat down heavily in his chair. “No wonder Thranduil is so determined,” he muttered as he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Perhaps, if he rubbed his eyes hard enough, he would no longer see what he now knew was in that room. It was doubtful. “It couldn’t have just been a guard or a scout…” He sighed heavily and looked back at his nephew. “Anything else I should know?”

“We sent a message to the elves, but they haven’t answered yet. We figured at the very least they should know he’s still alive,” Fili explained. He was very relieved that his Uncle now knew about it. Keeping it a secret had been far more difficult than he imagined.

Thorin glanced at his nephew for a moment before getting to his feet. “It is good you told me about this, Fili,” he said. His hand rested on the back of Fili’s neck as he brought their foreheads together gently. “You’ve done very well. But I will need your help still.”

“Of course, Thorin.”

Thorin slowly smiled. His nephews. Truly, he didn’t deserve either of them (his initial thoughts of strangling a helpless elf was proof enough of that) much less their loyalty. “The first thing we need… is for that elf to wake up.”

“We’ve been trying, but he just doesn’t… it’s the strangest thing,” Fili muttered. “Ori thinks it might be some sort of healing trance that the elf is trying to use to stay alive.”

“Well, if it’s healing he needs then there’s no better in the mountain than Oin,” Thorin murmured. “Ask Gimli to bring him to the Chamber.” Fili nodded instantly even as Thorin continued to think. “Bombur as well… the elf is far too thin.” Thorin was sure if the cheery rotund dwarf saw anyone so thin he would throw himself into getting said emaciated elf back up to a decent sort of weight.

“That’d be best. Bombur’s already getting suspicious because of how much broth Gimli’s asking for. So far that’s the only thing we’ve managed to get into the elf,” Fili explained.

“Good. Then, while you do that, I will go and speak with Dwalin,” Thorin said. In truth, he was a bit worried about how Dwalin would react. He’d known Dwalin all his life, but even Thorin sometimes had trouble guessing at how his friend would react to certain things. To make matters worse, this was not something Thorin had any sort of comparable surprise to use and guess at Dwalin’s reaction. And Dwalin wasn’t fond of elves… well, really who was?


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of looking into the past in this chapter. Well, actually quite a bit of it. But hopefully it answers a few questions. Not too many though. Can't just answer everything now can I?

He scowled as best he could at the dwarf that entered the room. His voluminous beard was neatly trimmed to a straight edge and braided. Several rows of angular and gemmed ornaments gleamed in the faint light of the room and matched well to the crown upon his head. The dwarf crossed the room with harsh steps that denote his ill temper. His massive feather trimmed cloak flared out behind him as his gold-plated boots near pounded against the dark green marble floor. Thick dwarven fingers reached out and roughly ripped a strip of leather away, tearing several long silvery blonde hairs away with it as he did so. “Tell me how to get rid of your father,” he demanded.

“Let me go and me and my father shall trouble you no more, Thror son of Dain, King Under the Mountain,” the elf responded with disdain. 

“You’re not going anywhere until I’m paid my dues,” Thror hissed. “Or is the life of an elf prince worth so little?” The dwarf king paced away from the elf angrily. He didn’t understand it! He was positive that Thranduil would give any amount of gems to get his precious son back! Why was this going so poorly? It should have been a simple thing!

Legolas narrowed his eyes as he watched the dwarf pace. “You are owed nothing!”

“We saved your life!” Thror near roared, whipping around to yell nearly in the elf’s face.

“A broken leg is hardly a life ending malady!” Legolas snapped back. He wished very much that his wrists weren’t chained to the wall behind him. If he could just get one wrist free, then the dwarves would find him a much more difficult captive. Especially now that his leg was fully healed. But the manacles were well wrought and far too tight for him to manage to slip his hands free. 

“Ungrateful creatures the lot of you!” Thror yelled and stormed several feet away again. He was becoming desperate. He hadn’t anticipated Thranduil laying siege to his home in response and so they had not been prepared. Their stores were draining of food quickly. Not to mention the forges ate through wood and coal at an astonishing speed. He needed to keep those lit for certain. He couldn’t abide a loss in productivity. They had plenty of gold still in the mountain that they could turn into all sorts of wonderful things. He must keep the riches flowing. All of his riches.

Legolas watched the dwarf storm around the small room even as he tried to shift into a less strained position. Though the manacles kept his arms above his head, a chain wrapped quite unpleasantly around his neck kept the elf from getting off his knees. It kept him about the right height to be face to face with the dwarf more or less, but it was also very uncomfortable after so long. It had been slightly better when his leg was broken as they’d allowed him more slack in the chains, but now they didn’t dare do so. “My father will get me back, Thror,” Legolas said with utter confidence. 

Thror scoffed and turned to face the elven prince. “Well, maybe we can just make it so that he doesn’t want you back, boy.”

“That, you cannot do,” Legolas replied. “It doesn’t matter what you do to me. My father will never turn me away.” If anything it would only enrage his father more if he were harmed.

“Then I’ll just send him parts of you until he pays up,” Thror threatened. “I’m sure a few of those pretty fingers of yours will change his tune fast enough.”

Legolas paled a bit at the threat and curled his hands into fists despite himself. That would be sure to cripple him in more ways than one, and he couldn’t help but fear it. “Harm me in such a way and he will tear your mountain apart and rip all the hair out of your skull before starting on the rest of you,” he said, trying his utter best to keep his voice even and distant. He didn’t want the dwarf to know that any nerves had been touched.

“Your prissy little father can’t destroy this mountain,” Thror said confidently. “None ever has.”

“My father is not like any foe you’ve faced before, Thror. He will easily outlast you,” the elf pointed out. Men and dwarves couldn’t come anywhere near an elf when it came to long lasting and endurance. “It would be better for you and all your people if you let me go now.”

Thror didn’t even consider that an option. All he could see was a pile of gold and jewels where the elf was sitting. He could still make this a profit to his people. He knew he could. But the elf did have a point. Something had to be done about the food shortages. Not to mention the fuel shortages. His eyes slid over to the elf for a moment as his gold fevered mind thought. “Tell me, elf, just how much of that magic does your oh-so-illustrious father have?”

“Enough to end you and your line if you don’t let me free,” Legolas threatened.

“So, you have it as well?”

Legolas paused, not certain where this line of questioning was coming from. Though his family had no ring of power, they were still descended from ancient and powerful lines. His father had many centuries to learn how to wield his innate gifts in the form of enchantments. Most of those enchantments lay over their wood even now. Legolas, however, had never been terribly good at it. Oh, he had the raw ability like any elf would (probably more considering his family line), but not the training required to properly use it. He’d always been more enamored with his bow and he’d always thought he’d have plenty of time to learn. “Why do you care to know?” Legolas asked.

“I’ve heard your people have a special gift for growing things,” Thror said with a certain amount of casual interest that Legolas knew to be feigned.

“We are Elves,” he pointed out in annoyance. He didn’t like the sudden interest in elven magic. Thror only seemed interested in riches from what Legolas had seen. Grasping for ransom and ‘debts’ that he thought himself owed.

Thror turned on his heel and crossed the room to face the elf again. “You will use your magic to aid us,” he stated. It was a kingly decree, and he expected it to be followed.

“I will do no such thing,” Legolas shot back. He had absolutely no incentive to help the dwarves nor any desire to do so. Why would he help the people that were keeping him chained to a wall and threatening him over something as ridiculous as gold and jewels?

“You will whether you want to or not,” Thror hissed.

Legolas tried to straighten though the chain around his neck cut into his flesh painfully. “You cannot make me do anything, Thror. I am an elf, and my gifts are mine to do with as I see fit. And I see nothing worth helping in you. But if you let me go then there would be no need to help you.”

Thror’s eyes flashed with rage. “We are starving, elf!”

“Then you had best let me go quickly,” Legolas said lightly. “The sooner you do, the fewer lives will be lost.”

Thror growled and grabbed Legolas roughly by the hair. He gave the fair head a rough shake before wrenching it back at an awkward angle. Legolas bit back his noise of pain even as he glared up at his captor. “If we starve, you starve, elf,” Thror hissed. “You will come to regret every second of suffering of my people and every second your father doesn’t give me what I deserve!”

“You seek to frighten me… but you do not,” Legolas said. “Starve me if you will, but I will still outlast you all. And when the last dwarf is dead my father will find me, and I will recover. You lead your people to a slow and painful death, all of this because your mind is filled with nothing but avarice.”

“My Kingdom is the greatest and richest in all of Middle Earth!” Thror roared and yanked the hair in his grip even more.

“And you bring it to ruination,” Legolas said despite the wince of pain. Thror growled and all but threw Legolas’ head back. He walloped the wall even as Thror turned and stormed towards the door. “The sooner you release me, the less your people will suffer, Thror!”

Thror paused by the door and turned to glare at the chained elf. “You do not know the meaning of the word, elf,” Thror hissed. “But a few weeks without food should teach you.” He turned and stormed out of the room. He would make the elf help them. Willingly or not the elf would assist them in surviving. That magic of his was the key, and Thror knew just what dwarf to go to that would help him unlock it.

* * *

Distant blue eyes that were somehow, impossibly, both nearly smoky grey and almost crystalline ice blue at the same time slowly cleared and focused. Legolas slowly blinked and realized that for the first time in a very long time he could see something other than blackness. His arms were aching, but he wasn’t hanging from them any longer. It took a moment to realize that the manacles weren’t digging into his wrists either, and he looked at them. They were bandaged. He frowned slightly in confusion. Why was he no longer chained? He certainly wasn’t back with his father. He could still feel the burning agony radiating from several spots on his back. The same pain that made it hard to even breathe and shift his position. His father would never leave such hideous things in him.

Legolas wanted to get up and try to escape, but he simply couldn’t muster the strength to attempt it. Not at the moment anyway. Though the lack of food hadn’t killed him, it had been terribly painful indeed. Which, combined with all of his energy being ripped from him through the spikes digging into his back, left him far too weak to attempt to move. He would have to wait and gather his strength. That still left the question as to why he was no longer hanging or chained, however. Not to mention who had bandaged him. 

Surely it wasn’t Thrain. The new King Under the Mountain was just as crazed as his father had been before him. Although, Legolas supposed Thror had been right in one instance. Legolas definitely knew what the word suffer meant now. It was too bad that Thror was now dead and Legolas couldn’t return the lesson to him.

Legolas turned his head into the surprisingly comfortable mattress beneath him for a moment and closed his eyes. Thrain would have never allowed even these meager comforts. Perhaps Thrain too was dead? Legolas hadn’t met the next in line for the throne. But seeing how he wasn’t yet released Legolas doubted very much he’d like the next King Under the Mountain anymore than the two before him. Although, if this was his doing it was already more tolerable. Not that that meant all that much. A nicer prison was still a prison.

Legolas attempted to shift on his bed but quickly stopped with a gasp of pain. The long thick needles that were embedded in his back shifted and pulled with even the slightest movement. It brought tears to his eyes though he tried to not let them fall. He had little left save his pride, and he would cling to it as best he could. Once the sharp pain of the needle pulling and ripping through his flesh faded, Legolas opened his eyes again. He could do little more than turn his head without it hurting so he resolved to stay as still as possible. Hurting himself more wouldn’t help him gather strength.

The elf turned his eyes to the room around him. It was much as he remembered it from the last time he’d seen it. It was very different from the first room he’d been imprisoned in. This one was bright and open though just as cold. But surprisingly enough there were rolls of bandages and water and even a few bowls clustered near Legolas’ bed. Someone had been tending to him apparently. He wasn’t certain if he trusted that. Appearances could be quite deceiving. After all, when he’d first met Thrain he had been sure the dwarf was different from his father. He had been proven both right and wrong. Thrain was different but not in any good ways. Thrain seemed to hold Legolas personally responsible for all of his sorrows whereas Thror had seen him only as some prize. Neither was really a good thing to be seen as.

Legolas sighed and winced some at how the deep breath had made the needles in his back dig even deeper into him. He wished he could find the strength to rip those horrible things out. Yet another thing he would have to bide his time to accomplish. It was a very good thing he was an elf and inherently patient.

In the distance, Legolas could hear booms and rumbles of large rocks hitting the side of the mountain. He smiled a bit. He had told Thror his father wouldn’t give up. His father never gave up. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but he doubted that it mattered all that much. He would get home even if it took chipping away the mountain pebble by pebble. Legolas let his smile fall and his mind to drift away again. He needed rest, especially now that there was a possibility he could manage to do something about his capture himself. They clearly thought him too weak to do anything and for the moment they were right. But he was certain he could manage something if they gave him enough of a chance. As he slipped back into Reverie, he felt bolstered by the realization that perhaps he would be back home soon.


	19. Chapter 19

“I found it!” Ori said excitedly as he hurried across Thorin’s rooms to where the others had gathered. After introducing the three newest members of their traitorous group to the elf they wanted to help, it was quickly agreed that Thorin’s rooms would be the best place to meet. Bombur and Oin had both frowned at the sight of the elf and started their work with few questions. Bombur hurried off to the kitchens and Oin had examined the elf’s healing wounds carefully. Dwalin had been even more grim than usual and had yet to really say anything at all. Thorin wasn’t sure how to take the silence from his best friend. 

“What did you find, Ori?” Dori asked.

“Thranduil’s family tree,” Ori said as he spread the scroll out across Thorin’s desk. Thin elvish scrawl stretched out across the parchment underneath the star and stag antlers of the woodland realm. “According to this, his name is Legolas.”

“Well, it’s good ta have a name for ‘im,” Nori muttered. “Bu’ tha’ don’t exactly help us get ‘im outta here.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Thorin agreed as he leaned forward on his desk with his hands splayed out across the wood. He was staring at the building plans of the Heart Chamber as if an answer was certain to appear there. “The biggest problem I see is getting those things out of him without letting my father know about it.”

Oin hummed a bit in thought. “Getting the cords out shouldn’t be a problem since they don’t attach to anything… vital in the elf. Maybe we can hook somethin’ else in his spot.”

Dori frowned. “Whatever we use wouldn’t last long.”

“Doesn’t have to. Just long enough to get the elf outta the mountain,” Oin pointed out.

“And what could we possibly put in place of the elf?” Dwalin asked where he was leaning against a wall. Thorin was glad for the question. It was the first thing Dwalin had said at all, and it was a question about how to _help_. His friend hadn’t revealed what he thought, but he was at least helping. “We put any dwarf in his place it’ll probably kill whoever it is.”

“Well, we’ve got to find something,” Gimli muttered where he was sitting beside his uncle. His shift had ended shortly after they had brought Bombur, Oin, and Dwalin into the situation. His replacement had come, and it would be far too suspicious if he didn’t leave his post when he was supposed to. It was best to keep him and Dwalin the only guards aware of what was going on. Thorin knew that a large percentage of those guards Dwalin had hand picked due specifically to their fighting skill and unwavering loyalty to the King. 

Oin scowled at nothing for a few moments before he looked up sharply. “Someone had to put those things in him. They were placed too careful for it to be a random pattern. If we find out who hooked those things into his back, we can figure out how it all works an’ how to take him outta it.”

Thorin looked up at that. “Any ideas who that could be?”

The gathered dwarves shifted and muttered a bit but failed to come up with any possible names. Judging by the little information that they had everything had been done in Thror’s reign, which was before all of their times. “I could ask Balin,” Dwalin said. “He should know who Thror would have asked.”

Thorin studied his friend for a moment before giving a nod. “Mr. Balin would know more about elves too,” Dori said thoughtfully. Ori was nodding emphatically behind him in agreement. He could translate Elvish and look through old records, but Balin was truly the master of that sort of thing. He would really like some help.

“Nori,” Thorin began, making the sneak-thief straighten slightly in surprise. “I’m going to need the fastest way out of the mountain from that room… with as few people noticing as possible. Can you find that way?”

“Sure, bu’ it’ll take me some time.”

“Just find me a way to get him out,” Thorin said. He would like to have this done quickly, but if it took time, then it took time, and there wasn’t much he could do about that. Suddenly the door to his rooms burst open and Fili came almost sliding to a stop. The guard Loni was right behind him. “Fili, what is it?” It was never a good sign when one of his nephews came rushing to him with that expression on their face. The last time it had happened, Fili and Kili had broken their mother’s favorite chair.

“It’s Kili. I can’t find him anywhere,” Fili said looking positively panicked.

Loni looked like he’d eaten a raw lemon. “He said he wasn’t feeling well and was going to bed early so I left him at his rooms. I should have known he was up to something! But with how little he’s been eating lately I thought he was telling the truth! I’m sorry, Prince Thorin!”

“You mean he actually did what he said?” Gimli asked, clearly shocked.

Thorin looked between the three younger dwarrow. “What? What was he thinking of doing?” he demanded.

Fili looked like he was on the verge of some sort of breakdown. Still, he nodded towards the nearest wall of the mountain. “He said he was going to go talk to the elves himself.” Thorin’s eyes went huge instantly. “I think… Kili’s left the mountain to try it…”

Abruptly, Thorin found himself sitting in his chair. Kili was brave but foolish. There was no way the elves would listen to what he had to say. They would be far more inclined to shoot his foolhardy good-hearted nephew on sight. “How could he have even gotten out?” Thorin demanded, looking around at everyone.

“Didn’ ya say there was some sorta spy ya caught, Dwalin?” Nori asked. “’ow’d he get in?”

Thorin actually felt the blood drain out of his face. “Elvish rope.”

“Ya don’t think the lad found out about that do you?” Oin asked, looking worried as well.

Dwalin pushed himself away from the wall. “Loni. Come with me. We’ll check the prisoner and the chest of his belongings,” he ordered. Loni instantly snapped to attention and hurried to follow the older guard out of the royal quarters. 

“If Thranduil hurts him…” Thorin began, but no suitable threat materialized in his mind. Thranduil had just better not hurt him. 

“Surely the Elf King wouldn’t be foolish enough to hurt Kili,” Dori murmured, though he didn’t look as convinced as his words might imply. “He’s a prince.”

“So’s Legolas…” Gimli pointed out softly. “Didn’t seem to stop us…”

* * *

Kili gave the silvery almost living rope a quick tug, and it unwound itself with surprising ease. He stepped back even as the shining length of it tumbled down from the battlements and piled by his feet. “Huh, tricky stuff this elven rope,” he muttered as he quickly rolled it up and hid it under his dark cloak. It was the middle of the night, so hopefully, the elves hadn’t seen him leave the mountain. He knew Fili had told him that this was a terrible idea but what was he supposed to do? Just sit around and wait for the elf to either die or for someone important to find out?

He wanted to know what was taking the Elves so long to respond to their letter. Sure, they could shoot him on sight like Fili warned but Kili was sort of hoping they would let him get close enough to let them know he was a messenger. Well, he wasn’t actually a messenger. Not in a conventional sense. But even in war messengers were supposed to be immune to instant slaughter. It was a gamble sure, but Kili was fed up with doing nothing. Kili was just glad that Dwalin had kept the spy’s things in the armory. Most of the guards had been sleeping or heading out to shift change so nobody had noticed Kili slipping in and getting the rope.

The young prince of Erebor didn’t think it’d be too hard to find an elf and prayed to Mahal that whatever elf he did find would be at least not the type to ignore the protocols of warfare and kill an unarmed messenger. Kili winced as another boulder shattered against the mountain. The booms sounded quite a bit different outside, and he could better hear the rocks breaking apart and tumbling down. He glanced over his shoulder at the mountain and stood in awe. It was the first time he’d seen Erebor from the outside, and his imagination had come up utterly short with how impressive it was. Somehow it didn’t seem as massive to him from the inside. Perhaps because it was all the space he’d ever known. But out here looking at it really drove home the point of just how huge a mountain truly could be.

Huge statues carved into the mountainside had been crushed by boulders, but enough remained for Kili to be able to tell that they were dwarves of old. His ancestors. What giant feats of sculpture they had been. Kili had always thought that the carving within the mountain was impressive but rarely did it get to the pure size that those figures had been. He couldn’t recall (and Balin would be annoyed at that) which of his ancestors was carved into the mountain but surely they had an impressive bearing. And not just because they were massive and wearing full armor. There was something in the fierce positioning of them that made Kili shiver. Like they had been protecting their home from the onslaught. They had surely taken a toll for it. One of the figures no longer even had a head or body and was just a pair of blunt-toed boots.

Kili studied the figures for another few moments before impulsively bowing to the ruined visages of his ancestors and turning back around. He had to find an elf to save an elf. Another boulder crashed loudly behind him, but he didn’t look back this time to see the damage. 

He took his time, making sure to not expose any mail or other bits of metal to catch the near nonexistent light. He had made sure to dress in his darkest blue clothing to make him even harder to see, and he was very glad that unlike his brother, his hair was dark. He kept low and went slowly even as boulders whipped by overhead to crash into his home. Nobody had attempted leaving the mountain in a long time so hopefully the Elves weren’t expecting it, and he could get closer. 

It took him several hours to slowly cross the No-Man’s land surrounding Erebor. It had been a very tense and uncomfortable journey. He was certain that every shifting of rocks would be elves about to murder him. And every time he slipped or straightened a touch further than he intended made him freeze like a rabbit about to be slaughtered. Still, he got very lucky and eventually he did manage to cross the expanse. Kili crouched down behind a large boulder that might one day be hurled against Erebor to help ensure he wasn’t spotted. He carefully peered around the rock.

Up ahead he could see the campfires and long-term camps of the elven forces. He could even make out where the catapults were stationed. The massive things creaked and groaned under the weight of the rocks they were hurling but continued to work despite those noisy protests. Kili’s eyes scanned the long line of shadows for some area that would hopefully have fewer people. He’d like to get closer before being seen if possible, and he figured it would have the best chance of doing that where there weren’t as many elves in the first place. 

There was a small ridge of rocks nearby that curved slowly towards the elven lines but stopped at least fifteen meters short. Kili wasn’t sure that was going to be close enough, but he decided it was his best shot. He was fairly certain that the only reason he’d gotten within a mile of the elven forces was that it happened to be a new moon out and was very dark.

He moved along the ridge slowly, making absolutely certain to stay as low as he could so as to be even harder to see. His back was aching from nearly crawling the whole way from Erebor to this point. How anyone would have made such a trek with supplies was beyond Kili. Perhaps the attempts had been doomed from the start and not just because the elves had ruthlessly put an end to the attempts. Kili pushed the unimportant thought to the side and continued on.

He hadn’t yet made it to the end of the ridge when Kili heard the unmistakable sound that he’d heard himself for years. The sounds of bows being drawn. Kili quickly threw his hands up to show they were empty even as he quickly spoke, “I’m a messenger from Erebor! I’m unarmed!”

“A messenger that sneaks close to our camp on his belly?” a haughty voice asked. “Do you think we would believe such lies?”

“It’s true!” Kili said quickly as he heard the bows get pulled further. He risked a glance up to see that in front of him was an elf with golden hair and a sneer on his face. He didn’t have a bow out, but all the many elves beside him did. “I have news. Important news for King Thranduil.” When the elf didn’t seem terribly moved by that Kili decided he had to risk more. “About his son.”

Even Kili could perceive the instant change in the elves that statement wrought. More than one bow seemed about to snap, and a few elves muttered, but the one in lead made a quick and somewhat violent gesture with his hand. It took a moment of hesitation from some of the elves, but they lowered their bows. Kili noticed that they still had them ready to pull at a moment’s notice, but they were no longer pointed at him. “Speak, dwarf.”

“You’re not King Thranduil, I know that much,” Kili said. This elf had the golden hair that Thranduil was supposed to have, but he just didn’t have the legendary aloof bearing that the Elf King was said to possess. Plus, he didn’t know if it mattered to Elves, but this one didn’t have any sort of crown or mark of station at all. He was all but certainly _not_ Thranduil. “I’m here to speak with him.”

The golden haired elf narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. “You will tell me what you know, now,” he said firmly.

Kili studied the elf carefully and did his utmost best to read him. It was nearly impossible. The elf’s eyes were a pair of flashing moonstones, but Kili couldn’t tell if they were angry or desperate or any other emotion. There wasn’t even a twitch on the rest of his immortally young face that gave a hint either. Still, Kili knew if someone he cared about was missing he would want some sort of news. “He’s alive,” Kili said softly. The elf didn’t seem to shift at all, but his eyes softened just a fraction. “But the rest I need to speak with King Thranduil for.”

The elf straightened though his eyes never left Kili’s face. “Your name, dwarf?”

“Kili son of Vili.”

The elf was silent for several moments before moving his hand ever so slightly. Two elven archers shouldered their bows and grabbed Kili by either arm. Without another word, they all but dragged Kili into the camp and Kili hoped very much that was a good thing rather than the bad thing his Uncle’s voice in his head told him it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used the name that Dets used for Fili and Kili's father here because ya know... the Durin family tree has a few holes in it... and Vili just works so well with their names.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More history! I was considering putting the majority of this as a companion one shot but then decided that wasn't really necessary.

“Hail, King Thranduil Oropherion.”

Thranduil’s eyebrow went up straight to his hairline at the unexpected sight of the dwarf in his halls. “Hail, Thror son of Dain,” he replied automatically. He had never met this dwarf, but his guards had forewarned him with his name. “What brings you to my halls?” He had not seen dwarves in his halls since they had left for the Grey Mountains many hundreds of years ago.

Thror straightened and held his head high. “We’ve returned to Erebor. I am now King Under the Mountain.”

There was silence for a moment. “I see,” Thranduil got up from his throne then and descended to where Thror was standing. “Then my greeting before was not quite complete. Hail King Under the Mountain. Though I still wonder as to why you are in my halls.”

“The road from the Grey Mountains to Erebor has been harsh, and my people were greatly harmed by the foul cold drakes,” Thror said, his eyes fierce with distaste at the very mention of the drakes that had killed his father and brother. “Though we have little, I would seek to trade with you for food and medicine for my people.”

Thranduil’s eyebrow went up again. “Indeed. An understandable request,” he mused more to himself than in an effort to give the dwarf an answer.

“We seek to reclaim our ancient halls and make them flow with gold and gems once again. We will easily pay you for your goods should we but have the time to mine for it,” Thror added quickly and not without a bit of bite. Thranduil ignored the apparent ill temper of the Dwarven King. It wasn’t as if Thror could do anything really. Thranduil ascended to his throne again and took a seat.

A glimmer of light caught Thranduil’s attention and his eyes found the thick ring around Thror’s finger. He recognized it without too much difficulty. “How many of your people do you have with you, King Thror?” Thranduil asked as he pulled his gaze away from the ring. The sight of it made him quite wary.

“Several hundred,” Thror answered. Thror looked uncomfortable and impatient where he was standing.

Thranduil made a gesture towards some of his servants. “I’m sure an arrangement can be reached,” he said. “There’s no reason to look so worried, King Thror.”

“I’ve heard rumors about you, King Thranduil. That you originally hail from Doriath… You cannot blame me for being worried you’d hold my race against me,” Thror said gruffly. 

“I do not need to like you to trade with you, King Thror. As it so happens, at this precise moment fighting with dwarves is not terribly appealing to me,” he admitted as he rested his chin upon his hand. He had plenty to worry about with the spiders that were plaguing his lands. They simply would not stay gone, and he’d rather put his attention there rather than with refugee dwarves.

Thror still looked skeptical but seemed to accept that explanation well enough. At least for the time being. Just as Thror was making his exit a second door opened and another blonde elf came strolling it. Thror was rather shocked that Thranduil smiled openly at the elf and came down off his (obnoxiously high) throne to greet the other. Thror only knew a smattering of elvish but his ears did pick out a few key words as the two elves embraced. “Your son then?” Thror said. He hadn’t known the Elvenking had a son.

Thranduil tensed slightly before turning back to the dwarf. He’d assumed that the dwarven king had left and hadn’t bothered to pay attention to him any further. “Yes,” Thranduil said in answer to the question. He would really rather not proceed with the introduction, but protocols simply wouldn’t allow that. “Legolas, this is Thror, son of Dain, King Under the Mountain. Thror, this is my son Legolas Thranduilion.” Legolas looked confused by the title of the dwarf but gave a cursory bow anyway. “Apparently, Durin’s folk have returned to Erebor,” Thranduil said for Legolas’ benefit. 

“I see,” Legolas said.

There was a long silence, and Thror felt even more awkward. He gave a quick but perfectly acceptable bow. “I will send the payment as soon as we have it, King Thranduil.” 

The Elvenking waved a hand slightly and made sure to watch this time as the dwarf left. Once Thror was gone, Thranduil put him soundly from his mind. He had more important things to worry about. 

It only took what felt like a blink to the King of the Greenwood for the dwarves to fully pay him his dues. However, they still had a need for food, and so a regular trade was arranged. The price went up slightly for the dwarves because Thranduil was nothing if not shrewd. But the dwarves always seemed to easily pay the price. It was baffling really. Thranduil had never known even the most industrious dwarves to recover their riches and markets so quickly. Not that Thranduil was trying to make his goods unobtainable in price he had simply not expected the dwarves to put up as little fight about it as they had. He’d been prepared for endless debates over the cost increase, but the dwarves had put up barely more than token protests.

Thranduil paused his stag upon the rise and looked out over the valley. There was a steady stream of carts and people going from the human city of Dale to the Lonely Mountain. His eyes drifted up to rest upon the great dwarven gates themselves even as the sound of a young buck came to stop beside his own steed. “Adar? Something troubles you about the dwarves?”

A small hint of a smile tugged at Thranduil’s mouth. “Many things about dwarves trouble me, Legolas,” he said, turning to regard his son fully. Legolas looked quite curious, and Thranduil easily recalled that same expression on a much smaller elfling, then again, perhaps that was simply the way he always saw his son. Thranduil turned to face the dwarven mountain again. “They have been here only a few years, and already their numbers grow, and more gold is being found every day.”

“Is it bad that they are recovering?”

“… unnatural is more correct,” Thranduil said. It took dwarves almost as long as elves to recover numbers and yet the mountain was near booming with new life. “And it is worrisome.” The Elvenking turned his stag and began back towards his forest. Legolas’ excitable young buck bound after him with only the slightest urging. “King Thror holds one of the seven dwarven rings of power, Legolas.”

Legolas made a thoughtful noise. “I thought dragons ate all the rings that were left,” he said.

“Apparently, one was missed,” Thranduil said.

“You think that is why they recover so quickly?” Thranduil allowed his silence to be his confirmation. It was undoubtedly the reason why the ever slow to recover dwarves were making huge leaps towards prosperity with seemingly little reason. “Is that such a bad thing? With Sauron gone, are the rings so dangerous now?” Legolas asked.

Thranduil smiled though it lacked all humor. “I would trust nothing touched by him,” he said firmly. “Such power is false, Legolas. A crutch that will sooner ensnare you than help you. And even if those rings were pure of intent, which they have never been, all such things come at a cost. And Thror is accumulating much debt from such flagrant use of his ring.” He did not dare add his own fears as to the fate of Sauron. He wouldn’t want his son to harbor the same dark thoughts as he already did.

Legolas hummed a bit. “Surely such a debt will not effect us, though, will it?”

“Such debts have been known to do everything from summoning Balrogs and dragons to driving their wielder mad,” the Elvenking said. “Who knows what Thror’s cost will be? Always remember, Legolas, Celebrimbor was tricked into making those foul things with the sole purpose of bringing the free peoples of Middle Earth to their doom. Do not underestimate a ring of power.”

They were quiet for several minutes as they guided their mounts back into the forest. Legolas risked one last glimpse behind him at the mountain before turning back around. “Then, if you are so worried, why do we trade with them still, Adar?” he asked.

“Because, Legolas, they’ve done nothing yet to cause me not to. I don’t have to like them to trade with them. Nor approve of how they handle their own. And… I very much hope to be proven wrong,” Thranduil explained. He did not want something so wrathful as a dragon or a Balrog to beset their lands. Because Erebor was too close to his own borders. Neither of those foul beasts would have any trouble besieging his woods if they got bored with the mountain of dwarves.

“But you don’t think you will be,” Legolas finished rather unnecessarily.

“No, my son, I very much doubt it.”

“Then why don’t you warn them?”

Thranduil looked over at his son fondly. He did so adore how even after centuries of life his son could still ask a question such as that. “I have. Several times. But Thror is a King, and he will do what he will. And dwarves are ever fond of ignoring an elf’s advice if at all possible. So we will trade but keep our distance and hope that Thror comes to his senses.” 

“Why does he ignore your advice, though? You who saw the world both before and after the rings were made?” Legolas asked, confusion clear to hear in his voice.

“Because he is a dwarf, Legolas,” Thranduil said somewhat dismissively. “And we are hardly Eregion and Moria.” Not like that was possible. Too much had happened since those days and true friendship was far out of reach. Thranduil pushed that thought to the side and turned more fully towards his son. “But you are quite full of questions today, Legolas. Any particular reason for this curiosity of yours?”

Legolas shook his head slightly. “I simply wanted to know what troubled you so.”

“Mm, well, we should move to more enjoyable topics. Dwarves are hardly something I would think about when there are fairer topics,” Thranduil said. After all, the whole of the palace was in a flurry of activity preparing for the feast that night. Legolas’ smile lit up the whole world, and he instantly obliged his father’s change of topic. Thranduil was more than happy to let Legolas take over the majority of the conversation and just enjoy the rare treat of riding through the forest with his son. He so rarely had a chance to do so anymore what with the responsibilities of leading.

Legolas had disappeared the very next day.

* * *

Thranduil held a long golden braid loosely in his hand without truly seeing it. The letters had just arrived at his hall that morning, and the Elfking wasn’t yet able to scramble any thoughts together. Tauriel’s message had told of a dwarf that had come to their encampment demanding to speak with Thranduil and that another letter had come for him just a week earlier. It was in the second letter, from one Fili son of Vili, Prince of Erebor, which had held the braid that Thranduil now had. 

The color and texture of the braid were unmistakable. No dwarf in history had ever claimed such silky long hair in such a brilliant shade. Thranduil slowly closed his fist around the lock and brought it up to rest against his chest. He hadn’t even read the second letter yet. It hardly seemed important compared to the small shred of his son he now cradled. 

“My King?” a tentative voice asked.

Thranduil barely noticed though he realized he must have been sitting there for quite a few minutes to have worried Galion enough to call to him. The Elfking glanced to the side where Galion was standing looking about ready to call for the healers. “He is alive, Galion,” Thranduil said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Legolas… he’s alive within that mountain.”

Galion looked surprised but said nothing. Thranduil looked down at the braid in his hand again for a moment. “Tauriel tells me a dwarf is asking for me at the camp… and that Mithrandir is there as well. I will return there immediately.”

The dark haired elf bowed instantly. “Of course. We can handle the spiders in your stead, my King,” he assured. Thranduil inclined his head slightly to dismiss the other elf even as he picked up the two letters that he’d dropped at some point without noticing. He would read the one that the dwarves had apparently sent in the privacy of his own room before leaving to return to the front. He wasn’t sure what the dwarves were up to this time, but he was sure to find out.


	21. Chapter 21

Kili tried hard not to stare at the female elf that he was brought to sometime after he had been captured and quite thoroughly searched. He had only brought with him the most basic weapons to defend himself with so it hadn’t taken the elves long to disarm him. They still forced him to wait under guard for several hours however, before bringing him to one of the larger tents in the camp. The elf that had been waiting there was… gorgeous. Even if she was scowling at him currently. If she was anything like a dwarf that vivid fall of nearly red auburn hair denoted quite a fiery temper. And that wonderful hair was so _long_. Kili almost itched with the desire to touch it and braid it (though that was horribly inappropriate and he shouldn’t be thinking any such thing! His mother would be horrified if she knew). 

Her green dyed leathers were fitted tight to her body and the long sweeping curves of elven embroidery made her waist seemed even more tucked in and tiny. And yet, despite being an elf, Kili couldn’t help but think her slender long limbs were perfectly proportioned. He felt so incredibly small and… lumpy beside her elegant beauty. Even her dark green eyes (which were currently glaring at him and flashing in impatience) were wonderful to behold. They were dark emeralds with a light behind them that couldn’t be hidden. Kili had never seen anyone as beautiful in his entire life.

“Answer dwarf!” she snapped, the fire in her hair seemed to enter her voice and crackle with ill temper.

Kili had to blink. She had asked him something? He’d been far too distracted to notice. “I’m sorry, Mi’lady,” he answered after clearing his suddenly constricted throat. “I have… not spoken with elves before.”

Her eyes narrowed and her wonderful full lips went thin for a moment. “No, I don’t suppose you would have. Haldir tells me you have news of our Prince. Tell me what it is, I said.”

“I’m afraid I’m only supposed to tell King Thranduil, Lady,” Kili said not without some regret. The last thing he wanted was to upset her even more. Especially with him. He hadn’t seen a smile cross her face yet but he rather thought it would make her even lovelier.

There was a heartbeat of silence and then she had suddenly crossed the room and a knife that Kili hadn’t had time to study was pressed to his throat. “You’ll tell me now, Dwarf,” she ordered.

Kili swallowed hard and moved his head back slightly. The knife followed to remain pressed against the soft skin of his throat despite the movement. “I… I want to,” he said. “It’s just, this is sensitive and I want to be sure I’m talking to the right person.”

“I am in charge of this battle while King Thranduil is occupied. You will tell me whatever news you have,” she said firmly. “If you do not, I will consider you a waste of our time.”

The youngest Prince of Erebor hesitated for another few moments. If she really was the one in charge then she would be the one to speak to but he wasn’t sure how well she would take any news. That fire she had probably wouldn’t appreciate anything that he had to say. Still, he didn’t think she’d be opposed to slicing his throat either. He weighed the options he had carefully, not that there were all that many of them. Finally though, he nodded some. “Me and my brother… we came across your Prince by chance. We didn’t know he was in the mountain. No dwarves really do. He’s been hidden in a chamber nobody’s allowed to enter. But he’s alive and we would like to help him escape. To help you get him back,” Kili explained.

The she-elf studied him carefully though she didn’t lower her blade. “And why should I believe you? Dwarves are not known for their goodwill towards others,” she said, her voice nearly a hiss of contempt.

Kili did his best to not be offended by that. After all, to her it probably seemed that way. He couldn’t blame her for thinking poorly of his people after this mess. “I don’t know what happened three hundred years ago,” he began softly. “I don’t know what started this mess or how your prince ended up inside Erebor… But I’m not a dwarf that can hold a hostage for no reason. Nor is my brother. And neither are most dwarves. I don’t know how much help I can be to you… but help is what I want to be.”

There was no movement in the tent as Tauriel studied the strange dwarf at the end of her blade. He was taller than most dwarves but lacking a beard so he must be rather young. Without the beard she could easier see his features. This Kili had a straight nose, strong jaw, dark eyes that were surprisingly earnest and also intense, and a certain proud countenance that seemed to make him seem just as tall as Tauriel herself. 

Tauriel considered herself a good judge of character and despite the undeniable fact that this was a dwarf she found that she believed he was as sincere as he seemed. Still, she hadn’t removed the blade from the dwarf’s neck when the command tent was entered by a certain tall grey figure. “Mithrandir,” Tauriel greeted without taking her eyes off of the dwarf’s.

“Captain! Please, take your blade away from our guest’s throat. I should very much like to hear what he has to say,” Gandalf said though he seemed slightly out of breath. He had only just heard about the captured dwarf and had rushed halfway around the blockade from where he had been trying to contact Bilbo with no results. 

It was another few tense moments before Tauriel stepped back and fluidly flicked her blade back into its holster. The tension in the tent eased but did not fully dissipate. Gandalf nodded and turned his attention to the dwarf of Erebor. “Now, whom might you be, my friend?”

Kili straightened as much as he could. This whole incident might have tarnished his family’s reputation but he was still a Durin and proud of it. “I’m Kili, Son of Vili, Third Prince of Erebor.” Tauriel’s eyes flashed at that bit of information. She would not have guessed that the Dwarves would send such an important person as a mere messenger. And the name Vili had most certainly not been in the royal family that she was aware of. She said nothing about it though and made mental note to let her King know when he arrived. He should be arriving shortly. She had sent him her message along with the letter from the mountain as soon as this dwarf had arrived.

Gandalf nodded almost absently, as if he were not entirely surprised. “I see. I take it you are not related to the throne through your father then.”

Kili frowned a little. What did that have to do with anything? He decided it was best to answer anyway. He didn’t want to seem in the least untrustworthy. That would only make them not take his help and possibly fill him with arrows. He’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t let that happen. After all, Fee would never let him hear the end of it even after death if that was the way he died. “My Mother is daughter to Thrain, King Under the Mountain.”

“Under who’s authority are you here, Son of Vili?” Gandalf asked. “Not Thrain’s surely.” If it was under Thrain’s authority then they most likely would have simply freed Legolas to begin with and not wasted time offering round about help.

“No. My brother and me. We’re searching to find out who knows about this and who doesn’t and a way to get him out of the mountain,” Kili admitted. “I don’t think my Uncle knows either but we’re having to be careful. We don’t want Grandfather to find out we’re trying to free him and move him or something.”

Gandalf nodded a little. “And how did you get out of the mountain?” he asked. Tauriel straightened some. She was quite curious about that as well. Though they had seen the dwarf coming they had only seen him disturbingly close to their camps. The dark of the night had hidden his escape from their view.

“Well, we caught an elf spy… Well, he say’s he’s not an elf spy but he had some elven rope on him. I used that to get out of the mountain,” Kili admitted.

Tauriel went to a side table and held up the coil of silvery rope that they had taken off of the dwarf. It had been quite puzzling why he had it on him but she hadn’t had time to ponder it very long. “And where did he get this rope?” she asked the dwarf as she examined it.

“Ah, I am the one that gave that to him,” Gandalf said. “It seems my internal source may not be as much help as I would have hoped, I’m afraid.” He reached out and took the rope from Tauriel though she looked ready to protest. “I will have to return this to the Lady Galadriel,” he said. Tauriel frowned slightly but relinquished her grip on the rope without further fuss. It wasn’t as if she had the right to hold onto something that belonged, in truth, to the Lady of Light.

Gandalf turned back to Kili. “The Hobbit you took this rope from. Is he unharmed?”

Kili shrugged. “I didn’t see him myself. But I think he’s fine. Thorin didn’t believe he wasn’t sent by the elves so he’s under careful guard.”

“What do you mean you didn’t see him?” Tauriel asked suspiciously. “Surely if you saw our Prince then you saw the Hobbit as well? They are both captives in your dungeons, are they not?” Tauriel knew she did not like how Kili suddenly looked down. He clearly knew something he was reluctant to say. “Are they not?” Tauriel demanded again. “You know something. Tell me what it is.”

Again, the dwarf hesitated. “They aren’t… being held in the same place,” Kili admitted without looking up.

“What do you mean?” Gandalf asked as he studied the dwarven prince standing in front of them. He liked the look on Kili’s face no more than Tauriel did. 

Kili cleared his throat. “Just what I said. They aren’t being held in the same place. The Elf-”

“Legolas!” a harsh and cold voice snapped. Kili looked to the entrance of the tent and a tall elf with long golden hair and surprisingly dark brows was standing there. He wore no crown and had on what looked to be riding clothes but Kili could tell who he was just by his imposing presence. It filled the tent to near bursting and Kili could tell that this ancient being _despised_ dwarves. His icy blue eyes seemed to ignite with rage as he stared down at Kili and Kili felt more than a little fear race down his spine. “My son’s name is Legolas, dwarf! Remember it!” 

Kili nodded and tried hard to not look like he was as intimidated by the Elfking as he was but he had a feeling it was useless. “King Thranduil,” Gandalf greeted solemnly. 

Thranduil barely glanced at the wizard. Instead, he was focused entirely on the shortest figure in the room. “Where is my son, dwarf?”

“In the mountain. The very center of it… under heavy guard. But he’s alive,” Kili said hurriedly. He didn’t want to know what Thranduil would do to him if he didn’t give quick answers. Probably flay him alive with just a glare. It seemed entirely possible from those powerfully unforgiving blue orbs.

Thranduil circled with deliberate steps. As if he were a vulture just waiting for a creature to take a last breath. Kili felt as if that last breath could very well be the next word out of his mouth. “You wish to help us, dwarf?” he asked. It was a simple question with a dangerous tone of voice. Kili didn’t quite trust his voice to answer and nodded instead. “And why, may I ask, should the sons of Durin suddenly change their traitorous ways?”

At that Kili managed to straighten again. “As you said, I’m a son of Durin. And despite what has happened… we are meant to be honorable.” Thranduil paused in his circle and looked down at Kili though he didn’t look any less frightfully angry. “I don’t know what led my Great Grandfather or my Grandfather to do what they have, been I won’t be a part of it,” he said firmly. “And I’m not the only dwarf to feel that way.”

That seemed to be the wrong answer as Thranduil’s eyes blazed with fury. “Get him out of my sight,” Thranduil hissed. 

Tauriel inclined her head and grabbed Kili by one arm. Kili resisted for a moment. “King Thranduil. I am sorry for the pain this has caused. But even if you don’t believe we want to help, we will. We will help you get your son -get Legolas- back,” he said firmly. Tauriel didn’t wait for an answer from her King and instead all but dragged Kili out of the tent. If she hadn’t she wasn’t at all certain the handsome dwarf would have kept his head.


	22. Chapter 22

Thorin was in a right state of worry as he made his way to where the Elvish spy was being held. He would have to tell Dis soon what Kili had done. He wasn’t looking forward to it by any stretch of the imagination. Though he hadn’t even known Kili was thinking of doing such a thing he didn’t imagine that his dear sister would care all that much. He wasn’t sure if he could convince Dis to not go to Thrain. If she did that, then there was no telling how everything would go, other than probably not well.

The Crowned Prince of Erebor stopped outside of the hobbit’s cell. “I have a deal for you, Master Spy.”

“I am not a spy,” Bilbo said with no small amount of exasperation. “I’ll not tell you again.”

Thorin ignored that since he still wasn’t remotely convinced of it. Bilbo had been caught sneaking around Erebor. “My nephew, Kili, has left the mountain with the elvish rope you brought.”

“Ah, a walking holiday is good for all sorts. Nice change of pace and you get to see all your neighbors,” Bilbo said with a small nod of approval.

“It is no walking holiday!” Thorin snapped. “And our neighbors are a bunch of bloodthirsty, vengeful, elves!”

Bilbo raised one eyebrow and studied Thorin with a shrewd eye. “Finally admitting that they have reason to be upset are you? I take it you asked your nephews about the elf then.”

Thorin cast the hobbit a very annoyed look. He wasn’t about to discuss that. Not with someone who looked like they were about to say ‘I told you so’s. He got that sort of thing enough from Dis. He wouldn’t take it from his own captive as well. “If I let you go, can you stop those elves from killing my nephew?”

“They have no real reason to listen to me,” Bilbo said. “I told you before, elves are the ones who sent me here in the first place. You’d be better off sending the elf out to them.”

“I can’t,” Thorin admitted with a scowl of annoyance. “He isn’t even conscious, and my father would never just let him go.” All of this would have been solved days ago if it were that simple. Really the only neutral party he could hope to send was the hobbit. Though he couldn’t even say that Bilbo would have more luck at least, they wouldn’t hate him on sight like they would a dwarf.

Bilbo made a thoughtful noise and put one hand to his chin. “Well then, that is quite the pickle. What are they doing to him anyway?” He had only caught the briefest of glimpses of the elf through the door and past the dwarves. He hadn’t been able to see much at all, and he doubted seeing any more of the situation would have helped him to make sense of what had been going on in that room. It had all seemed terribly complicated.

“Someone, probably my grandfather, found a way to use him to fuel our forges and power the lights in the growing quarter,” Thorin admitted. Just saying it aloud left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Ah. So, it’d be rather obvious if he was just taken out then,” Bilbo surmised. “As obvious as when Mrs. Bracegirdle is baking her gooseberry pies…”

Thorin wasn’t sure what to make of that comparison. “Er, yes. It would be.” Was everything where hobbits lived so very… quaint? Thorin tried and utterly failed to imagine such a place. Most of what he knew was the inside of the mountain and though he had heard of such a thing as gooseberries they didn’t grow on the mountainside that they could reach so he had no idea what a pie made of them would taste like.

Bilbo nodded, mostly to himself as he mused over the situation. “Well, then, perhaps if you let me out, I can speak to Gandalf and get his opinion.”

“Gandalf?”

“Yes, the wizard. I mentioned him before, you know.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Yes, I was just wondering how you planned on contacting him. Do hobbits have magic I don’t know about?”

Bilbo cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, no. But I was rather assuming he’d be the one contacting me. Especially if your nephew gets captured by elves.”

“If they don’t shoot him on sight,” Thorin nearly growled. He still hadn’t thought of a proper retaliation should that happen. He couldn’t let such a thing go unanswered, but he wasn’t entirely willing to kill a helpless captive in vengeance either. It left him in a very uncomfortable spot.

“Seems to me that it would be smarter to capture anyone so that they can get information,” Bilbo pointed out.

“They’ve always shot us on sight,” Thorin replied. “The only time they didn’t was when they were too busy to worry about us.”

Bilbo looked very surprised. “What do you mean? And would you let me out of this dratted cell already? You know perfectly well I’m no threat.”

Thorin frowned a little and studied Bilbo and the cage door skeptically. He probably shouldn’t let the sneaky little Hobbit out. But if he wanted the halfling’s help he would have to be let out anyway. And he probably wasn’t much threat. He probably wouldn’t be that hard to handle. Then again, where would they put him? It was quite obvious from his lack of beard and surprisingly large feet that Bilbo was no dwarf. His presence would inspire no small amount of gossip and speculation.

The Halfling crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Thorin expectantly. The Prince thought that Bilbo might even be tapping his toes impatiently. With a slight groan, Thorin found himself unlocking the cell door to let the captive out. “You’ll have to stay out of sight.”

“I can do that quite well, thank you very much,” Bilbo said with a bit of a sniff. As if he couldn’t believe Thorin had the audacity to say something like that.

Thorin rolled his eyes again. “Just be sure you do. I don’t need my father finding out I’m letting you wander around inside the mountain.”

“He won’t know a bit of it,” Bilbo assured. “Now, you didn’t say what had the elves so busy to not worry about escaping dwarves.”

“It was a particularly harsh winter some years ago,” Thorin began after several long minutes of consideration. “All over food was coming up short. Here in the mountain and apparently out there as well. Goblins and Orcs launched an attack, probably trying to get food from Dale or the Greenwood. So, for the first time in ages, the elves had their attention split. They shifted more of their forces to combat the foul creatures and left the rest of their blockade less protected.

“We needed food so we took the risk to go out and try to get some while the elves were distracted. Me and my brother-in-law and a few others managed to sneak past the elves in the night.” Thorin sighed and rubbed at his eyes. He rarely talked about what happened. He wasn’t even sure why he was talking about it now. It wasn’t really the Hobbit’s business, and yet the story just came flowing out anyway. “We weren’t far past the elven line when we were ambushed by wolves.”

“Wolves?” Bilbo echoed in a small voice. Thorin looked over and realized just how pale the Hobbit looked. 

Thorin nodded. “Yes. We had still been trying to sneak through so we were caught very much off guard. We managed to kill the wolves, but they ripped into Vili badly. Would have ripped into me as well but I picked up a branch just in time to stop the one that knocked me down. It’s how I got my name Oakenshield… We had to hurry to get Vili back to Erebor before he died and after that, there wasn’t any chance to try and get through the elven lines again.”

“I was wondering about that…” Bilbo murmured. “Oakenshield seems a strange name for a dwarf.”

Thorin tried for a smile and managed at best a grimace. “There have been worse although there have also been far better.”

“Did the other, Vili you said, did he survive?”

“For a few days.” Thorin sighed and shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. He shouldn’t have brought it up at all. “Come. We need to find a place to put you where my father won’t notice until the wizard can contact you or however that works.”

Bilbo thought for a moment. “Well, those chambers you grow things in are rather comfortable,” he suggested. He needed to get his ring back before someone else found it.

“The growing chambers?”

“Well, yes, nobody really goes there from what I’ve noticed, and they’re far more comfortable than any other quarters I’ve noticed,” Bilbo insisted. “I’m a Hobbit. Gardening is something we’re quite happy to do and be around. It is impressive that you could manage to get things to grow underground but really they could still use some work.”

Thorin couldn’t help but be amused. “Is that so?”

“Yes, indeed. Why -everything is all mixed together with no rhyme or reason at all. It’s shameful.”

“We have never been very knowledgeable gardeners.”

Bilbo sniffed. “That’s rather obvious. Just take me to the one you found me in and I’ll keep myself busy.”

The Prince shook his head. “I’m not about to leave you somewhere that we can’t keep an eye on you.”

“Must you be so stubborn?”

“In matters of safety and secrecy, yes, I must,” Thorin replied lightly. “I may have let you out of the cell, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to let you wander Erebor without supervision, Bilbo Baggins.” He wasn’t nearly that stupid, although Dis would most likely disagree with him on that.

The Hobbit huffed a little. “Oh, botheration.” Again, Thorin couldn’t quite help but be amused. He did manage to keep the twitching of his lip from developing into a full-blown smile though how he did he had no idea.


	23. Chapter 23

Golden light filtered through leaves that were emerald green on one side and silvery blue on the other. A gentle breeze ruffled them and caused feathery soft grasses to bend down. Dotted among the grasses were bright flashes of color from a wide range of flowers. Little sparks of clean white and cheerful yellow even blue and purple and the occasional red all the color of precious stones. The breeze was warm and scented faintly with the smell of summer blooms.

Off in the distance he could hear water flowing all too happily over rocks and branches. He made his way towards the noise. The long grasses and soft earth cushioned his feet as he walked. The tall straight trees seemed to bend apart as he walked until he came to a clearing. 

The warm sunlight was nearly blinding as it filled the space and he had to shield his eyes for a moment. He slowly lowered his arm and was able to see clearly again. His breath caught painfully hard in his throat and chest.

He had found the spring. It’s clear cool waters were bubbling down from a pool set some feet above the ground and flowed in a meandering path into the forest. Along the water’s edge smooth rocks veined and flecked with black were spread in gentle curves. Among the rocks and waters of the spring were staggeringly clear gemstones rising like spires and shining every color of the rainbow. He could make out everything from deep dark emeralds to all the different varieties of quartz to even amethysts. The sun filtered through them and reflected off of the water causing colors to dance and shimmer before his eyes. Never in his life had he seen anything like it.

But then, that was not the only beauty in the clearing either. He swallowed hard as he took another few steps away from the trees. The wildflowers that had clustered under the trees had veritably exploded under the sun. They mixed among the grasses in huge waves of color. New types even climbed over the edges of the spring and the smooth bark of the trees. They seemed to grow even as he took more steps away from the safety of the shade until they curtained off the rest of the wood entirely. Long hanging curtains of fresh green and little white bursts like strange stars.

Even with all of the impossible beauty of the world he had stumbled upon his eyes were focused on something else. Near the edge of the spring, just far enough so that the splashing water would not reach, was an angled bed. Lower near the water and somewhat higher further away, it seemed to be made of one flowing piece of wood so pale it was nearly white. Intricate carvings flowed along the grain and vines had taken the opportunity to gently spiral along it, though that only seemed to add beauty to the carvings. Almost as if it were intentional. And upon the slight slope was where he was. 

He was sprawled upon it casually and yet elegance was still in every line of him. One hand was hanging down near the flowers and his golden hair had spilled off of his pillow and then over the slightly raised lip of the bed. He seemed to gather all the sunlight that shone down upon him and reflect it back in a pure silvery glow that almost hurt to look at.

He was not nude but the thinness of the silks he wore and how they clung to his body was not much covering. The robes he wore were a very faint grey and embroidered with gems no bigger than dewdrops. 

As the visitor got closer he realized that though the one on the bed was not nude his robe was not fastened either and parted along the lean length of his body to give teasing and tantalizing glimpses of the pure silk that was his skin. There wasn’t a single mark to mar his flesh and his face was impossibly youthful and ageless. One slender hand rested upon his flat stomach and his visitor picked it up in a much wider, work-worn, hand. The contrast was astounding.

Gimli couldn’t seem to force himself to do anything other than sit there on the edge of the lounge and stare down at the far too perfect creature beside him. Dark lashes that were far long than really necessary laid like perfect crescents against his pale cheeks. For several long minutes he couldn’t look away from the pure temptation that was the elf’s mouth. 

He swallowed hard and forced his eyes away but wished he hadn’t only moments later when the long shimmering line of exposes skin drew his gaze instead. The breeze teased everything it passed-by, including the opening in the thin robe. His breath left him again as his eyes willfully ignored his common sense and followed the line down his sculpted chest, over a flat stomach, beyond the tempting rise of a bare hip and along his slender inner thigh. His hand not holding the elf’s became traitorous. He couldn’t seem to stop it from moving down the elf’s side and hip.

He wanted to yank his hand back, because he shouldn’t be doing such a thing, but he couldn’t make his body obey. Nor could he seem to tear his gaze away as the thin silk fabric was gathered and pushed open. His breath caught again, seemingly in his entire body this time, as his eyes stayed riveted where they shouldn’t be. The robe was dropped to pool along the elf’s very bare backside and his hand slid up from the elf’s thigh to wander over the now exposed roundness. His skin was so smooth and soft he couldn’t seem to stop rubbing his palm over the elf’s arse or moving down to the back of his thigh, occasionally squeezing because he had lost control of his hand.

His eyes wandered back up over the elf’s flawless body and lingered for a moment on a pale nipple that had been exposed. Gimli wet his suddenly dry mouth and somehow managed to force his eyes away though his hand was still working on it’s own. 

Gimli looked up at the elf’s beautiful face again and met a pair of heart-stoppingly blue eyes. They were so intense that Gimli felt his heart practically explode in his chest and in that instant he woke from his dream with a gasp.

It took him several minutes to realize where he was and what had happened and when he finally had he sighed. He wasn’t terribly fond that his subconscious had done such a thing but at least it hadn’t gotten worse. Groping a sleeping person, no matter how lovely they were, wasn’t something he would do. He didn’t want to know what would have happened had he not woken up. Although… he groaned a little as he shifted position, the dream had been quite lovely despite that.

Of course the captive elf he had been tending was beautiful -even moreso in his dream where he was of a healthy weight and not wounded. It was only natural that dreaming of a naked -or mostly in this case- beauty would leave him with a problem or two.

He groaned again and buried his face in his pillow while he did his best to will away the ache that had grown between his legs. He had to go to Legolas in only an hour at most and he’d rather not go there with the guilt of this dream lingering. Gimli just knew that if he took care of his problem with his own hand the guilt would be far from relieved. No matter how natural it was to find the elf attractive, he was an unconscious captive. Gimli wouldn’t allow himself to do something questionable. He couldn’t control his dreams but he could damn well control his hands.

It took some time for Gimli to calm himself and when he finally had managed it he was running a touch later than he would have liked. He had to rush through his morning routine and then near run through the halls of Erebor. He didn’t bother talking much to the guard that he relieved, mostly because he was a little busy catching his breath. The older dwarf looked terribly amused and said a cheerful goodbye. Gimli managed a small wave in return.

Just as he was unlocking the door, Gimli heard footsteps coming near. He paused and turned to face the dark hall. Luckily the owner of the steps turned out to be Bombur carrying a tray. “Hello, there, not in yet?” he asked merrily.

“I was running a bit late,” Gimli answered as he went back to the door. “What’s on the menu for today?”

“Oh, same as usual,” Bombur said with a slight frown. “Oin’s not letting me get too creative… I still say that a little more flavor could only be good for him though. Nutrition is all well and good but it’s not nearly as nice without any _flavor_.”

Gimli shook his head slightly even as he held the heavy door open for Bombur. “I’ll just be happy when he wakes up enough to eat on his own,” Gimli admitted. “How long do you think elves can stay like that?” Legolas was still precisely how Gimli had left him the day before, staring at nothing as if he were no more than a corpse. It was unnerving.

“Don’t know. But your Uncle seems to think it shouldn’t be too much longer,” Bombur said as he put the tray of food down near the elf. “Need anything else while I’m here?” he asked even while gathering up the used dishes. For the sake of secrecy he tried to only come into the chamber once a day so the dishes from the day before were left for later.

“No, I think everything’s set,” Gimli said as he laid his axe nearby. “Any news about Kili?”

Bombur shook his head. “Not that I heard but Thorin seems to think that he can send that cute little fellow with the feet out and maybe find out what happened.” Bombur had only briefly met Bilbo but had taken an instantly liking to the hobbit. _He_ at least appreciated good food. Unlike certain Crowned Princes who let their dinner grow cold nearly Every. Single. Day. It was enough to drive Bombur to something quite against his nature. Perhaps a bit extra of fennel (which Thorin was not terribly fond of) in his meal would make his dear leader appreciate his dinner more.

Gimli blinked a bit in surprise. He wouldn’t have thought that Thorin would agree to let their captured spy go at all. Then again, this was Kili they were talking about. There wasn’t much Thorin wouldn’t do to safeguard his nephews. “Well, hopefully we find out soon. Does the Princess know about it yet?”

“If the fact that she wouldn’t take anything at all for breakfast this morning is anything to go by, then yes,” Bombur supplied. Though he was the main cook for all of Erebor he made a point to personally supply the royal family with their meals. It tended to result in them actually eating it every once and a while. They all had the same annoying tendency to, somehow, _forget_. Especially if not pestered.

“I don’t envy Prince Thorin right now,” Gimli muttered. He certainly wouldn’t want the Princess Dis angry at him. Not that Thorin could have likely done much.

Bombur nodded his agreement before finishing gathering the dishes and leaving. He had plenty of other work to do still. Ori and Balin were pouring over records and such and most likely had not eaten. Bombur sighed in frustration. Balin at least should know better. Thorin’s bad habits were spreading.

Gimli sat down in his usual spot and carefully shifted Legolas’ limp body. He still couldn’t be set down on his back but Gimli had managed to find a position where he could get the elf in a less awkward position. He wouldn’t want any of the others to see him practically cradling the naked elf in his lap but it was the best way to do things. Sure he had to have one leg stretched and the other bent somewhat awkwardly to get around the horrible cords jutting out of the elf but it was better than nothing. And Legolas’ head could quite comfortably rest on Gimli’s shoulder. It kept his neck in an easy position for Gimli to check the pulse there. At least, that was the excuse he told himself.

The young dwarf went about his now disturbingly regular routine of trying to nurse the elf back to health. Legolas’ open wounds were healing quickly but still needed to remain bandaged for a few more days at least. Then it was just a matter of getting as much food into the elf as they could while they waited for him to wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It had been long enough without Gimli having some lovely impure thoughts about a certain elf. This is sort of turning all sleeping beauty on me, which was unintentional... But hey, I'll go with it if you all will.


	24. Chapter 24

“I would have you stay here until I get everything in order,” Thorin said as the Hobbit looked around the room –while looking quite skeptical at that. “I want to get updates from the others and give them to you so that you have something to bargain with for Kili’s life.”

Bilbo was hardly paying him attention. “Are you sure you want me to stay _here_? Is it wise?”

Thorin gave the Hobbit –who was sadly not watching and therefore not privy to it- a very annoyed glare. “I still am convinced you are an Elvish spy… it is the furthest thing from wise. But I also don’t want my father finding you and he never comes into my rooms. He just sends someone to bring me to him instead.”

Well, that seemed unnecessary considering Bilbo knew for a fact that the King’s chambers weren’t very far away at all. He put his hands on his hips as he turned to face the Crowned Prince again. “And if Kili isn’t with the Elves? What then should I do?” There was absolutely no guarantee of anything outside of the mountain. Bilbo wasn’t even a hundred percent sure that Gandalf was out there –although he had _better be_ after getting Bilbo into this mess. Or else they would be having _words_.

The Dwarf paused and seemed to struggle with himself for a moment. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted after a moment. “It-It would still be right to return Thranduil’s son to him… I am a Dwarf of my word and I said I would help the Princeling.” Honestly, if it were too late to save his nephew he was certain it would shatter not only himself but Fili and Dis as well. He could only hope that since they had received no word from the Elves bragging or claiming to have killed Kili it meant they had captured him instead. 

He shook his head to clear it. He had things to do after all. “I’ll be back soon with our current situation. Don’t go anywhere.”

Bilbo nodded in agreement and watched Thorin leave. Then he snorted a little. As if he would really stay here. He had to get his ring back before someone else noticed it. He couldn’t really explain it, but he just couldn’t leave that ring there. Perhaps he should mention it to Gandalf, let the wizard take a look at the thing. But then again, that might be a terrible idea. Bilbo was rather fond of having a secret weapon such as invisibility up his sleeve.

After he waited for several moments, just to be sure that Thorin had left, Bilbo crept over to the door and slowly pushed it open. Luckily, though heavy, the door was well maintained and didn’t creak when it was opened. Bilbo peered out and looked down the hall in both directions. He didn’t see any guards. Very good indeed. He’d explored the mountain fairly well and Bilbo was almost sure that he could find a less occupied way to get back to that growing chamber. Hopefully, all that rot Gandalf had spouted about being able to pass unseen by most wasn’t entirely without merit.

Bilbo carefully slipped out of Thorin’s rooms and closed the door behind him. Eyes continually scanning for any dwarves at all, especially guards, the Hobbit began making his way out of the royal quarters. It was nerve wracking to say the least. His heart just might explode if things kept up the way they were going. But Bilbo just _had_ to get that blasted ring back. Luckily it was early morning and not one of the busiest times of the day for the dwarves. Oh, there were still people going back and forth, no doubt about that, but fewer. 

He decided on taking a slightly longer but less used path to get to the growing quarter. It didn’t help that thundering heart problem of his but he doubted that there was very much that would help with that. Bilbo kept close to the shadows and made sure to keep an eye on where every statue he could duck behind might be. More than once he nearly rounded a corner before spotting a shadow or hearing voices and just barely managed to get out of the way in time. He was going to die. He’d have a heart attack and fall dead any second now. He knew it.

He forced himself to take several deep breaths as he paused behind a statue of some imposing dwarf gent, if only so that he didn’t pass out. Why had he thought this a good idea? He truly didn’t know.

Still, he was over halfway round the mountain. He should get to the growing chamber he’d lost his ring in shortly. Then he could walk back to Thorin’s rooms bold as brass and entirely invisible and nobody would be any wiser. The thought was comforting. Bilbo peered out from behind his statue friend and spotted a few dwarves moving about. He kept very still as they went to wherever they were going. Several looked to be workmen and in quite a hurry. That was good. Stay in a hurry. It meant they wouldn’t be noticing Hobbits sneaking around.

Bilbo forced himself to take several deep breaths and then quietly rushed out. He kept to one side of the hall where the lights weren’t reaching quite as well and kept every sense strained for any indication he was about to be spotted.

After a few more nerve-wracking hallways and stairs, which nearly made Bilbo have a conniption from how difficult they were to sneak down, Bilbo finally came to the growing chambers. He sighed in relief. There were far fewer dwarves here. Most considered it a punishment to be in the gardens, something that had the Hobbit positively baffled. 

Luckily, the garden was just as empty as it usually was so Bilbo rushed over to where he’d been sitting when he’d lost his ring. He started hunting around quickly for any glimmer of gold. Though there weren’t any approaching footsteps to rush him this time he still would like to hurry. There was no telling if someone would come and he didn’t want a repeat of that little incident. Thorin would be heartily annoyed that Bilbo hadn’t stayed in the rooms. Bilbo paused and then shook his head furiously. That was hardly the thing to be worried about! Really, Baggins, get your priorities straight again. That Took side was getting out of hand!

Bilbo crawled on his hands and knees all along the side of the planters looking for any cracks that a ring might have rolled into. He didn’t spot any and muttered darkly to himself. He huffed and pushed himself up off of the floor. That tore it then. It must have fallen into one of the planters itself. He didn’t even have his trowel on him. Drat it all.

The Hobbit started searching in the planter he was almost certain he’d been sitting at just before he realized the ring was missing and started carefully digging through the dirt. He tried his utmost to focus only on finding the ring and not on anything relating to planting. It was hard though. He’d much rather only have planting to worry about. It took far longer to look through the planter than he would have liked but he wanted to be sure he had not missed anything.

He didn’t find it in the first planter and was forced to go looking in the next. He tried to not worry about time but it was definitely taking him much longer to search the chamber than he wanted. He’d hoped he’d find his ring fast so that Thorin definitely didn’t know he’d completely ignored his orders. Every minute that ticked by meant that was less likely to happen.

After what felt like ages and ages of searching, Bilbo finally spotted a glimmer in the second plant bed. With a huge sigh, he grabbed it up and brushed the dirt off of it. “Silly thing,” he muttered before putting the ring on and vanishing. 

The trip back to the royal quarters was much less nerve wracking. Though the odd shadowy world he had to travel through was still oddly oppressive, he was safe within it. Nobody could spot him with the ring on and he could practically run through the halls of Erebor without a hint of hesitation.

When he reached Thorin’s rooms though he nearly panicked at the sight of the Crown Prince going inside. He had to hurry to slip into the room. He tried hard to not touch Thorin as he sneaked past and darted into another room further back in the suite. He darted around a corner and yanked the ring off even as he heard the door to the front room close.

Bilbo tucked the ring in a pocket that didn’t have a hole in it and stepped out of his hiding spot. “Got everything then?” he asked, hoping his face wasn’t too flushed from the rush back.

Thorin raised an eyebrow at the smiling but slightly out of breath Hobbit. “What were you doing?”

“Doing? Nothing,” Bilbo’s eyes looked around as if bewildered and Thorin had a very strong suspicion that wasn’t at all the case.

Still, he couldn’t prove it. “Very well. Let me just write a few letters. Did you need anything to eat or drink?” Thorin asked as he walked to his office.

“Some tea would be lovely, thank you,” Bilbo agreed even as he sat down heavily on one of Thorin’s couches. This entire situation was going to be the death of him. He just knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, the Hobbit got his ring back. It had to happen at some point and this was his first chance. Gave him a bit of a heart attack though.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh snap! I went there!

Gandalf watched as Thranduil’s hand twitched towards his blade. Clearly, the ancient king had the urge to use it and was barely restraining himself. “This is a good sign,” the wizard offered. “Sign that we may yet have allies within the mountain that can help us get your son back.”

“I should kill him,” Thranduil said. “A Prince for a Prince.”

“They have not killed Legolas,” Gandalf pointed out cautiously. “Killing the Dwarven Prince seeking to aide us would not be a very wise decision, Elfking.”

“Well, he would die if we held him for three hundred years anyway so why not speed up the process?” Thranduil demanded as he spun away and filled a goblet of wine. “Dwarves do not live long enough to pay back the wrongs that they have done. But reparations will be had.”

Gandalf frowned. “Perhaps after we retrieve your son, then? The young Kíli has knowledge that we need and he seems willing to grant us his help.”

Thranduil glowered at Gandalf for several minutes before turning back to his wine. “Why are you here, Mithrandir? As you say, they have held my son prisoner for three hundred years and only now the White Council seeks to do something about it?” he asked, scoffing over the title of the so-called guardians of Middle Earth. Some guardians they were turning out to be.

“I have heard that many of the other Elven Lords have already sent assistance,” Gandalf pointed out. One couldn’t say the White Council had not provided aide when one of their wisest members had sent her own Marchwarden to the blockade. He knew Thranduil was very angry and bitter and he didn’t have the target he wanted in front of him. Of course, he’d been angry about not being included in the White Council as well so perhaps his old grievances were mixing with his current ones.

“Elrond and Galadriel have sent help, yes,” Thranduil agreed. “And not a single word of help from the oh-so-illustrious Istari.” He sneered some. “Only now, three hundred years after my call for assistance do any of you come. If you think you can come here and dictate to me how to get my son back you are mistaken, Mithrandir.”

Gandalf held up a hand. “I am not here to dictate anything. I am merely here to help.”

“And how, may I ask, do you intend to help?” Thranduil demanded.

“However I can. But might I suggest that for the moment, at least, that you don’t kill that Dwarven Prince?”

The Elvenking scoffed. “What do you take me for? No matter how much I wish to execute him and send his body back to that miserable King Under the Mountain, he is far more valuable to me as a hostage. If they want him back, they can give me back my son.”

Gandalf nodded. “I have another possible source of information, Thranduil. Allow me to get as much news as I can and then we will have the best chance at retrieving Prince Legolas.”

“I am not stopping what I am doing for you, Mithrandir,” Thranduil said coldly. “Find out what you can but do not expect me to wait if an opportunity arises.” Gandalf supposed that was the best he was going to get and bowed in understanding.

* * *

Okay, so maybe, Kíli mused, just maybe his plan hadn’t been the smartest. Thranduil seemed very unwilling to talk to him. At least for the moment. But, he also wasn’t dead. So Kíli was going to count that as a win. Yes, not being dead was definitely a plus to the situation he’d gotten himself into. The elves had him locked up inside one of the small buildings that they built long ago and had set a guard to watch him. Kíli had rather hoped it would be the pretty Tauriel that watched him, but it wasn’t. It was some severe looking elf with such dark brown hair as to be nearly black. Oh, he was pretty too (well, Kíli hoped it was a male) but not to the same level _Tauriel_ was. Kíli barely stifled the sigh and instead tried to focus on why he was here in the first place.

The young prince looked around his prison for a few moments. There wasn’t much in it though. A rather too long cot, a few rugs on the ground, a table shoved in the corner with two chairs around it, another smaller table near the first with a wash basin on top. There weren’t even any windows and just the one door, which was being guarded by mr-tall-dark-and-severe-elf.

Kíli sighed and went to sit on the cot. It was just a shade too tall and so, as he was sitting, his feet dangled just a few inches off the ground. He made a face and brought his legs up onto the cot with him. He didn’t particularly want to feel like a child swinging his legs back and forth. He wasn’t that young.

He wasn’t quite sure how long he sat there when he got a visitor. It was the old man that had stopped Tauriel from slicing his throat open. “Son of Víli, I have some further questions for you,” he said as he took his rather tall hat off and put it on the table before leaning his staff against the wall. “Would you mind answering them?”

The young prince shrugged some. “I suppose. But who are you?” They hadn’t actually been introduced what with all the near decapitation and angry Elf Kings around.

“Ah, my name is Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey. Although you might know me better as Tharkûn,” he said as he pulled over a chair and sat down. 

“You mean the wizard?” Kíli asked. He had heard stories of him but since the Mountain was sealed off the chance of meeting such a figure before now was essentially nothing at all.

“Indeed.” He made some gestured to the elf on guard. Kíli’s silent watchman hesitated for a moment and then bowed before leaving. Well, obviously he was important. Kíli supposed that made sense for a wizard. “I apologize for Thranduil. He should be in to ask his own questions in a little bit. For now, he has agreed to not kill you, though it was a near thing.”

Kíli swallowed hard at that. “Well, that’s good. Thank you for convincing him.”

“My dear dwarf, it wasn’t I who convinced him of anything,” Gandalf said. “It was merely the thought that you would be more useful as a ransom than a corpse. Now tell me everything that you know about Legolas and then we can decide what we should tell Thranduil.”

Kíli frowned in confusion. “Shouldn’t we tell Thranduil everything too?”

Gandalf shifted in his seat a little, leaning closer as if telling a great secret. “When Legolas was very small he had an accident with his horse… he had a new horse the next day with no explanation.” He let the implications of that sink in for a few moments before straightening again. “The King is very protective, you see. I think it best if we… constrain just what information Thranduil has. For the sake of keeping your head in its rightful place.”

“O-oh… right then,” Kíli muttered. “Um, well, I’m not quite sure what’s going on.”

“Well, let’s start with where did you find him?”

“In the Heart Chamber,” Kíli said. “It’s in the center of the mountain under heavy guard. There’s only one way to get to where Legolas is and that hallway’s practically hidden from the rest of the mountain. Nobody is allowed to go in that room. Me and my brother, we were curious about what all the secrets were about so we snuck in with a spare key we made.”

Gandalf’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And what did you find?”

Kíli shifted uncomfortably. “See, there’s this thing in Erebor, called the Heart of the Mountain. We all thought it was some shiny rock or something. That’s the rumor. It powers the whole mountain. Keeps the forges burning and the lights running and all that. But… when we took a peek inside the Chamber where it was kept… that’s where we found him. I don’t know what they’re doing to him, Gandalf, but he’s got these weird glowing things coming out of his back.”

“Glowing things?” Gandalf echoed, getting more and more alarmed. “Like tubes?”

“Er, well, yes, they’re the same ones that power the forges now. What are they?” Kíli asked.

Gandalf ignored the question for the moment. “Tell me, you said you had not spoken to Legolas, are you sure? Has he been awake at all?”

“Well, we can’t be with him all the time but he hasn’t been awake that we’ve seen,” Kíli answered. “Why? What are they doing to him? We figure they’re using him for power but we don’t understand how. He might be an Elf but he’s still a person… You can’t just plug things into people and have it work.”

The wizard was silent for several long moments. “This we cannot tell Thranduil, Kíli,” he said finally. “It would only serve to torment him further since he cannot stop it, but we must save Legolas as soon as possible.”

Kíli did not like the sound of that. He really wished that Gandalf would just tell him what was being done to the captured elf. “You make it sound like he’s going to die… but I thought Elves were immortal? They’re not… not actually killing him are they?” That would be horrible and Kíli wished he could somehow just magic the Elf out of the mountain immediately if that were the case.

“What you have described is quite disturbing, Kíli,” Gandalf said as he pulled out a pipe and started packing the bowl distractedly. “It sounds very much like something that the agents of evil used to do to the elves they would capture. I have not heard of this being used to power forges but it is entirely possible given what I do know of it. What is more important however is that if it continues then Legolas will be beyond our aid.”

“Agents of evil?”

“Yes,” Gandalf said as he brought up his pipe to chew on the end for a moment. He stared at the wall before blinking several times and lighting his pipe finally. “I am sure you know the legends on Orcs do you not?”

Kíli stared in horror. Of course he knew the legends but that could not possibly be what was going on. It just couldn’t. “Y-you don’t… you don’t mean-” he choked out.

Gandalf sighed and lowered his eyes to the ground. “The firstborn have magic and grace and eternal life gifted to them by the Valar. Orcs no longer have these gifts.” Kíli continued to stare at him with his mouth open. “Of course… These ancient enemies sped up the process by torturing their captives, forcing their innate magic to be spent in trying to heal them over and over again, until they were driven to madness. So you see, young Prince of Erebor, Legolas is in far greater danger than we had thought. And death… death would be a far kinder fate.”


	26. Chapter 26

“I don’t understand you, Thorin!” Dís nearly shouted. “Kíli is missing and you say he left the mountain, but you _don’t_ want to tell father?” It was entirely inconceivable. There was no reason to not tell their father. Something had to be done. Surely the could send a message to the Elves to bring her boy back! There had to be some sort of accord they could reach! They had to do something! Anything!

“Dís, we cannot tell Father,” Thorin insisted. They had already argued this point many times since Thorin had very reluctantly told his sister that Kíli had left.

“Why not!? You aren’t making any sense at all!”

Thorin sighed and rubbed his eyes with his thick fingers. He’d sent Bilbo with Dwalin and Nori in an effort to find another safe way out of the mountain since Kíli had taken the spy’s rope with him in his own escape. He had to buy the little Hobbit some time to actually get out of the mountain to find his nephew and the wizard Bilbo thought would be of some help. “Dís, it's complicated,” he said wearily. 

Dís nearly slammed her hand on her brother’s desk. “What is it you aren’t telling me, Thorin? And don’t you dare try and deny it,” she insisted, “there is no way that you should be keeping this a secret from father!”

The Crowned Prince sighed again and struggled with what to say. Surely, if Dís knew the situation she would understand, but Thorin found it difficult to speak of his father and grandfather’s crimes. Especially to Dís, who had always adored their father, Thrain. He didn’t want to break his little sister’s heart with such a terrible truth. 

So long Thorin hesitated that Dís began to shift from angry to worried. What was her brother hiding that made him look as if he were under such a terrible weight? And would she really prefer knowing it? Thorin looked as if he hadn’t slept in many nights and there was uneaten food on his desk from breakfast. Though he usually never truly ate his full breakfast for he was very busy this tray didn’t even look touched. Usually, her stubborn big brother would at least take a few bites of it before he forgot about it. The chunk of bread was still whole and neatly sliced, and silverware was still laying on the napkin in their proper places. He wasn’t eating and not sleeping much. Just like Kíli before he slipped away during the night.

Dís straightened her back. Whatever was going on with her family was not something she could ignore. It was serious, and she could not ignore it. “Thorin. Tell me.” She said it softly but firmly. She would not be persuaded otherwise despite the growing trepidation she was feeling. Whatever this secret was, it weighed heavily on her family.

Thorin still did not answer right away. He tried to frame the truth in a way that would be less painful and still believed. He failed miserably. But Dís didn’t rush him and just stood there with a determined look on her face. He knew that look. It was the look that said she would not let the subject go for anything. He would have to tell her, he knew, but he couldn’t make the words cross his lips. 

Finally, he got to his feet. “It would be easiest, I think, if I showed you what Fíli showed me,” he finally said. “It is something Father has been hiding from us and that Fíli and Kíli discovered. Though I warn you, Dís, it is a great weight this knowledge.”

“I need to know.”

He nodded in agreement. He knew from the set look in her eyes that he wouldn’t be persuading his sister. It didn’t stop the warning from escaping, though. He gathered several papers from his desk and locked them in one of the hidden compartments in the back of the top drawer. He didn’t want anything written on those reports falling into the hands of someone who didn’t know. Though very few people came barging into his office. 

Thorin rounded the desk to take his sister’s arm. He didn’t want to do this, almost as much as he didn’t want to tell Dís that Kíli had done the unthinkable and left the mountain. But just like that, this needed to be told. Dís would never keep her son’s actions a secret if she didn’t know the reason behind them. If Thrain knew his grandson had gone to see elves, he might grow suspicious as to the why. Though Thorin had the loyalty of the Dwarves, Thrain was still King and treason was not something Dwarves took at all lightly.

“Is it really as bad as you’re making it seem like?” Dís asked as Thorin led the way from his rooms.

He could only nod as he walked. His pace was clipped with nerves and his jaw set in a determined way. Dís didn’t like the look of her brother at all. She didn’t think he would answer any further questions with such a grim cloud over his face so she bit back her questions. Instead, she just followed him through the mountain and tried to not look nervous. She was having second thoughts about seeing whatever had caused her brother to look like he did now, but she knew that she needed to know as well. It really was a no-win situation.

The path they took through the mountain seemed unnecessarily winding and scenic, but Dís didn’t dare suggest that Thorin was lost. She didn’t think this the right time for teasing. Not even light-hearted attempts to cheer them up. 

After some time, Thorin led them to a small passage near the kitchens. Dís was surprised that there weren’t any torches lit within the hall but followed her brother without question. She did, however, wish that Thorin would say something. The silence between them was so very tense and uncomfortable. It made her want to fill it with something, but she wasn’t sure what. Nothing seemed at all appropriate. 

They came to a door with deep carvings and bore the mark of the Heart of the Mountain. Dís felt more trepidation as Thorin gave a distinctive knock. Three quick knocks, two long, and then a pause before two more knocks close together. Dís wanted to ask about the obviously coded knocking and the empty chair by the door where a guard should be but found that she couldn’t. She could only silently watch as the door opened slowly.

Gimli was a little surprised to see the Princess standing there with Thorin but stepped back to let them both in anyway. Once they were in he quickly closed and locked the door behind them. He heard Princess Dís’s gasp of surprise and horror though Legolas looked better than he initially had. Thorin put a hand on his sister’s shoulder and began to tell her what they knew, as little and unsatisfying as that seemed to be.

Dís listened without looking at her brother, but Gimli didn’t bother. He already knew what Thorin was explaining and didn’t need any reminders about how horrible it was. Instead, he went back to the staring Elf and carefully gathered him up again to continue with his tasks. He had been in the middle of getting more herb-laden broth down the elf’s throat when Thorin’s knock had disrupted him. He thought while he adjusted Legolas’ long limbs, that he saw the elf twitch slightly, but after several moments of watching carefully for any further signs decided that it had been his imagination. Or perhaps, while moving the elf in his arms, he had jostled him a bit much and touched one of those nerves that made one act without thought. His reflexes would surely still be working despite being unconscious. 

Gimli tilted the bowl in his hands slowly so that he didn’t choke his charge. It took a long time to feed Legolas in such a way, but it was important that they get as much into his thin body as possible. 

“Kíli thought that he could speak to Thranduil,” Thorin was saying to Dís. “That is why he left the mountain. To try and help.”

Dís kept her eyes tightly squeezed shut. Though she was so unbearably proud of her son for having such a good, brave, loyal heart, she still wished he hadn’t done something so horribly dangerous. She didn’t want anything to happen to him. “Oh, my brave boy… my wonderful dear son…”

Thorin laid a hand on her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “He does us proud,” he murmured though he knew from experience how poorly that reassured anyone. He was proud of Kíli too but he’d still rather the young Dwarrow had not gone rushing out of the mountain like he had. “And we will do all we can to ensure he comes back to us, Dís. I promise that.” Dís nodded and wiped at her face in an attempt to wipe away the tears that had escaped her tightly closed eyelids. 

After several minutes, she took a few steps forward and knelt down beside where Gimli was tending to the Elf Prince. Gimli glanced up at her momentarily but then went back to what he was doing. He still had a bit less than half of the broth to give his charge. Dís wasn’t sure what she was looking for really, perhaps some sign that her son’s risk wasn’t coming too late. She couldn’t tell if the elf was alive or not, but she figured he must be if they were still nursing him. Instead, she noticed something else. “He could use a bath,” she murmured. The elf had some patches of blood still clinging to his body that they had apparently missed and his hair was oily and limp where it was draped over Gimli’s arm. The sick wouldn’t heal all that well if they weren’t kept clean.

“Uncle Óin’s been keeping his wounds as clean as he can, but the cables in his back keep us from doing much else,” Gimli replied. “Plus it’s hard to get water in here. We can’t bring very much at a time.”

Dís frowned but nodded a little in understanding. Of course, this room was obviously not constructed for the Elf’s comfort and wellbeing. Changing that wasn’t something that they could easily do. “Well, a little bit at a time then,” she conceded. “Does he wake at all?”

“Not that we can tell,” Thorin answered where he was standing several feet behind. He didn’t like getting close to the elf. He didn’t trust himself fully after the vivid and violent first thoughts he’d had upon seeing Legolas. He wouldn’t open himself up to possible temptation or anything else that could go wrong. He refused to be the sort of Dwarrow that would do that. “You see now why we can’t tell Father, don’t you Dís?” His sister’s face darkened, but she nodded. She wouldn’t tell Thrain what they’d discovered, but it would be hard for her to bite her tongue. Their father should know better! He did know better! True, he had grown distant and cold after Frerin had died but that wasn’t any excuse for such crimes as these.

Gimli listened with half an ear as Thorin promised his sister they would do whatever they could to help Kíli. He didn’t seem to have any definite ideas on how they would do that, but Dís didn’t question his promises. Not at the moment. After a bit more time, after Thorin asked if Gimli needed anything else, the two royal siblings left. Very few people but Gimli stayed very long in the Chamber itself. Gimli himself didn’t really need to either, but he found himself doing so. 

Leaving Legolas alone in his prison after everything else seemed unnecessarily cruel. True, he wasn’t awake to appreciate the company, but it made Gimli feel a bit better that he was at least trying. Plus he found that he constantly worried if he was actually outside standing guard like he was supposed to be doing. What if Legolas had taken a turn for the worst? What if he’d actually woken up and was alone? What if, what if, what if? Sure, none of that had happened, but he couldn’t help but worry that it might. True, it was a little… unnatural maybe, for a Dwarf to worry over an Elf so much but these were unusual circumstances.

The redhead finished the tasks he had in nursing the elf and leaned over carefully to put the bowl off to the side. Dís was right that Legolas could use a more complete washing, but there wasn’t a whole lot they could do about it. Dragging a tub large enough for the elf to use would cause some stir, even if they could find a way for the Elf to use it without the issue of his back interfering. 

As Gimli straightened again, he heard the distinct sound of a sharp blade being pulled free of a sheath. Before it could fully register in his mind that the familiar sound was out of place here, his own boot knife was pressed to his throat. He swallowed hard and froze, save his eyes, which flicked down to the Prince he was cradling in his arms and lap. Blue eyes burned in perfect focus and the elf’s thin arm was trembling slightly, but the sharp little knife was held rock steady despite the obvious effort it took. “You’re awake…”

“Don’t speak,” Legolas said firmly. His voice was rather rough and scratchy from not being used, but there was steel there. He was definitely _not_ broken from his ordeal. Angry. Furious even. But not broken.

Gimli decided to do what Legolas said and bit his tongue. The knife he knew quite well was sharpened to a razor’s edge and could easily cut his throat wide open. Legolas’s arm still trembled, as if just holding it up was terribly difficult, but he didn’t lower the blade even an inch. Gimli could probably overpower the Prince, but that would do the opposite of earning trust, and trust was what he needed to get. The tension between them stretched tight as each second ticked by. The seconds turned to a full minute and then another and another. Gimli was impressed by Legolas’s ability to push past what was either pain of lack of energy to keep the standstill going, but he was beginning to worry the Elf was pushing himself too far. 

He licked his lip nervously. He probably should keep silent like Legolas demanded, but it was hard when he wanted to ensure that Legolas didn’t hurt himself further for no reason. “I’m not going to hurt you-” The knife pressed harder, and Gimli shut up as blood trickled from a small cut on the side of his neck.

“I said, quiet, Dwarf,” Legolas ordered.

Gimli pulled his head back to take some pressure off the blade and his neck even as he quickly moved his hand to grab Legolas’s wrist. The Elf tried to thrust the blade forward, but Gimli easily stopped it. As well as the next pull that Legolas tried to free his wrist. “Let me go!”

“Now hold on,” Gimli said. “You’re in no shape to try fighting me.”

Legolas’s eyes blazed and narrowed. “I know my limits far better than you!”

Gimli shrugged without releasing the Elf’s thin and bandaged wrist. “Perhaps but why waste energy if you don’t need to?” he asked. “I’m not going to hurt you. We’re trying to help you. Knifing me won’t help you in the least. You can barely even lift this little knife here much less get yourself out.”

“I would find a way,” Legolas promised as he gave another useless tug on his arm. He wished he could find the strength to use his other arm or push himself up, but it was taking every effort to just keep his arm up. The Dwarf was right, damn him.

“I’m sure you’d try,” Gimli agreed. “But your chances of getting free are better if we help you. Don’t you think?”

Legolas scowled and tugged at his arm again. Gimli’s wide hand didn’t have any trouble keeping a gentle but firm hold. It was infuriating for the weakened Elf. “I know better than to trust a Dwarf.”

Gimli frowned but couldn’t find even the slightest inclination for him to blame the still too thin Elf Prince. He sighed some and loosened his grip on Legolas’s wrist. It just happened to be in time for another weak pull from Legolas. His hand came free with the knife still held tight in his fist. Legolas blinked in surprise, not having expected to be freed from the grip. “We are trying to help you,” Gimli said sincerely. “I know it must be nearly impossible to trust us, but I swear to you I’m telling the truth.”

Blue Elven eyes trailed over the young Dwarf that was strangely still cradling him close as if he were some fragile thing. He was armed after all and had just cut the Dwarf’s throat. He was not a defenseless child. “Why?” He struggled to keep hold of the blade he’d stolen, but his fingers were tingling with numbness. 

“Because what has been done to you wasn’t right. And we would see it ended,” Gimli answered. “We’d have removed these things from your back and smuggled you out of the mountain, but it isn’t yet safe to do either of those things. I’m sorry.”

Legolas narrowed his eyes. “I do not trust you.”

Gimli nodded a little, not at all surprised to hear that. “I understand. If I were in your position, I wouldn’t trust us either.” He was surprised that Legolas hadn’t brought the knife up to his throat again. “My name is Gimli, son of Glóin. I have been assigned to guard you and am at your service.”

“Guard me?” Legolas echoed. “Guard me against what?”

“Being found,” Gimli answered. “At least, that is the official position I hold. Now, I am ordered by Prince Thorin to guard you from further harm if I can.”

Legolas thought about that for a moment before frowning. He wasn’t of a mind to believe that. He didn’t believe much of anything from these Dwarves. “I will be keeping your knife,” he declared. He wasn’t about to be unarmed in such a position.

Gimli didn’t like that thought. He didn’t want Legolas hurting himself or others in desperation. “I don’t know if I should let you keep it… you could hurt yourself.”

“Why would I hurt myself?” Legolas demanded in annoyance. “I seek to return to my home and family, not death.”

There was a tense silence, and Gimli sighed. “Very well, but don’t do anything to the cords. If they are disconnected guards will come here in an instant, and you may very well be moved. We can only remove them when we’re sure we have everything set for your escape,” Gimli warned. “I would rather remove them now, but we don’t even know if you would survive it. We must be careful.”

Legolas was not in the least bit pleased. “I will do what I wish,” he said.

Gimli sighed and reached up to scratch the back of his head. “Aye, I suppose you more than have the right. But, we truly don’t know what will happen if they’re removed. Just give us some time to try and find out. If we take too long you can always do what you want still,” he reasoned.

Another long silence filled the room and then Gimli heard a clatter. He blinked and looked around. It took a moment to realize that Legolas had dropped the boot knife. Legolas was staring at nothing again, and Gimli sighed when he realized that the Elf must have passed out from pain or lack of energy or some combination. Gimli supposed it wasn’t that surprising the Elf had not been able to stay awake, but it was sad. This brief stint was the first indication they had that they really might be making some sort of progress in healing the Elf.

Gimli was tempted to taken the knife back but decided against it. Legolas was understandably not trusting of them, and they needed to earn his trust. Allowing him to have a method of defense would help them get that trust. He could only pray that the wounded Prince would see the reasoning behind not alerting the King and Guards too early by removing the cords. It was definitely a gamble, but Gimli felt it was one he _had_ to take.


	27. Chapter 27

“Jus’ keep watch, ya big lummox,” Nori hissed as he did his best to shove a very un-amused Dwalin out of the King’s quarters. Being Captain of the Guard, Dwalin had easily ordered the dwarves in the hall away but that didn’t mean the King wouldn’t show up and catch them snooping through his rooms. Or, that they wouldn’t be snooping around so long that the next shift would come by. Or, countless other things that could possibly go wrong.

“How did you talk me into this?” Dwalin asked through his teeth in something that might have been an attempt at a growl.

“Cause yer prince asked ya to,” Nori replied succinctly. “An’ ya do anythin’ Thorin asks. Sooner ya get to watchin’ out for someone comin’ the faster we get this done,” he added before Dwalin could come up with a suitable retort. The taller dwarf looked about ready to bash Nori’s elaborately styled head into a wall, but Dori would probably be less than pleased. Not to mention Thorin who seemed to think they needed the sneak thief. Dwalin growled wordlessly this time and disappeared into the hall. At least Nori was right in that this couldn’t end any faster if he didn’t get started at all.

Nori shook his head and turned to hurry after Bilbo. The idea behind coming to the King’s rooms to try and find a way out had been the little Hobbit’s. He had figured (with all his Hobbitish logic) that if the King was hiding one secret room perhaps he was also hiding some secret tunnels or passages or something of that nature. Nori wasn’t sure if they’d find anything or not but it at least gave them a place to start looking opposed to scouring all over the very large mountain in the hopes that they’d get luck and stumble across an unguarded exit.

Nori pocketed a little golden trinket off the bookshelf as he searched for anything helpful. Bilbo was focused at the other side of the room, trying to find the hidden compartment in the King’s desk that Thorin had told him about. It had already hidden Legolas’ prison, that was where Bilbo was laying odds that any other secret information would be in there. Bilbo followed Thorin’s instructions and started feeling around for the release under the desk. It took him a few minutes but he managed to get the panel open. He pried the piece of wood open fully so that he could start rifling through the contents of the secret compartment. There were countless papers and a few expensive looking items all stacked up precariously inside the narrow space. 

As Bilbo searched the desk, Nori decided he would best make use of his time by trying to find the King’s private safe. Everyone knew he had one for his most precious treasures. No Dwarven King wouldn’t. It was probably due to how expected such a thing was that he had resorted to using a hidden compartment to hide the sensitive information regarding the captive Elf Prince. Everyone would assume he’d hide anything like that in the safe. Well, Nori figured that a small compartment in the desk couldn’t hold all the mountain’s secrets so something had to be in the safe. That it probably also held lots of expensive things was entirely beside the point. Nor wasn’t sure where the safe was but the Dwarven thief figured he could find it.

The two burglars took their time in searching the office of the King. Bilbo had his hands full with the papers and Nori had a lot of wall to search. Nori eventually did manage to find the sound of a safe behind one carved panel on the inside wall. It took a little more doing to find the place where the lock and handle were hidden but he managed that once he figured the general area that the safe was in. 

Dwalin came in to check on them and was rather horrified to see Bilbo reading through sensitive documents at an alarming rate and Nori with his ear to the front of a safe that had been hidden behind the wall. The guard gaped for several minutes before forcing himself to turn and walk away, muttering to himself the whole time about how he was going to throw them both in prison. Not that the threat would amount to much as Thorin had ordered this frankly appalling act of treason. Thorin was lucky Dwalin trusted him so much. Otherwise the royal guard would be finding it even harder to justify these sorts of actions. It was after all one elf, prince or not, and they had no idea what had happened. Perhaps the elf had done some serious crime! Dwalin shook his head and decided to stay out of that end of things. He would just do what Thorin told him and let his Prince worry about things like guilt and elves.

The lock on the King’s safe was, as one might expect, very difficult to crack. Nori had rarely seen such a sophisticated lock. Ancient Dwarves, far more clever than even Nori could boast, had created this safe back when Erebor was first built and they had poured their ingenuity into the thing. But every lock had weak points and ways to crack them. Nori had the patience to carefully search for those ways. 

He didn’t allow himself to worry about if someone was coming or if Dwalin would change his mind or even if this would turn out profitable or not. He only focused on listening through his glass while he turned dials slowly and tapped on the front of the safe with a spoon. It would take time and patience but he knew he could do it if given said time.

Bilbo frowned at the papers in front of them. There were quite a number of letters written from the Elvenking Thranduil to first Thrór and then Thráin. The Hobbit felt awkward reading the letters, especially when he realized what the subject matter was. They were all regarding Legolas and an apparently very broken down negotiations. Bilbo actually winced a little as he skimmed through some of the pages in front of him. Judging from the tone of the Elvenking’s later letters he was being entirely ignored although Bilbo noted –rather unhappily- that one had been dated at a hundred and eighty years prior. 

Bilbo flipped through the pages he found one letter that was dated 2790 and was severely crumpled. It was addressed to Thráin and the usual crisp Elvish script was somewhat unusually uneven, as if whomever wrote it was heavy into his cups. The signature at the bottom of the letter answered who the author had been and that meant the cups had been deep indeed, for Elves didn’t get drunk easily. Bilbo felt uneasy about it but decided to read what the Elvenking had written to the then Prince Under the Mountain anyway.

_Thráin son of Thrór,_

_I did hear the bells last night and yes, I do know what they mean. You cannot possibly know what hearing the sound marking the passing of a Dwarven royal means to my people. You bring me news less pleasant than I would like but what you accuse me of is simply not true. I did nothing to your son specifically. I cannot cause specific dwarves to die and -believe me- I have tried. I was not the cause of his death, but perhaps now you understand my own pain a bit more. Return my son, Thráin, and I will have no more need to attack your people._

_I will not stop until I have him in my arms again. You should now see why that is. He is my only son and your father has taken him from me! You still have a son, and a daughter, and your traitorous father. Legolas is my only child. You are a father and now you know the pain I have felt for a hundred and fifty years! Please, Thráin, be reasonable like your father refuses to be. He is all I have left. I do not care about the jewels from all those years ago. Keep them and all your useless treasures but send Legolas back. I am sorry your son is dead, Thráin, I know the pain it must cause, but mine is not. Let Frerin’s death mean something more, Prince of Erebor. Let it end this._

_Please, Thráin son of Thrór, Prince Under the Mountain, please give him back to me._

Bilbo swallowed hard against the knot in his throat and folded the paper up. There were a few more letters after that one but only a few. The letters seemed to have stopped entirely shortly after. He’d heard stories about the prideful Elvenking. It didn’t seem possible he had written the letter that Bilbo had just read although Bilbo seriously doubted anyone would forge such a thing. He pocketed the letter and went back to searching for a way out of the mountain.

Nori had almost managed to get the safe open while Bilbo had been consumed with the letters and let out a triumphant grin when he finally heard the click of the lock only a few minutes later. He carefully pried the heavy door open and called Bilbo over. “Eh! Over here!”

The Hobbit hurried over to help as Nori started rifling through things. “What is it?” Bilbo asked even as Nori pocketed a rather remarkable ruby the size of his eye.

“It’s a safe,” Nori answered as he continued to search.

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Yes, obviously. But I thought you’d found something,” he hissed in annoyance.

Nori shrugged and stuffed a few loose coins in his pocket. “Found lotsa somethin’s,” he replied as he tried to peer as deep into the small safe as he could. He pulled out a very elvish circlet and whistled some. The silver had been highly polished and pencil thin engravings of vines trailed along the inner bands. “Think this’s his majesty’s?” Nori asked somewhat irreverently as he turned the band of silver in his hands. It didn’t have any jewels in it but it was of very high quality metalworking. 

“Probably,” Bilbo said as he reached in almost blindly to try and find something actually _useful_. Jewelry was not useful in this case. 

Nori shrugged and tossed the circlet back into the safe. That would most definitely be noticed if was missing. The circlet landed on a heavy piece of leather folded up neatly and secured with the royal seal. The thief’s eyes sparkled and he grabbed it up instantly. “Now this looks promisin’,” he muttered. He broke the seal and unwound the leather tie to open the parcel. A key with an angular diamond shape fell to the floor with a clatter.

Bilbo was the one to pick up the heavy wrought thing. It was much heavier than he expected and very thick. He’d never seen a key made so, with the small exception of the keys in the town of Bree and those had been the keys that the Innkeeper of the Prancing Pony had used on his front door at night. Of course, those had been mannish keys and this one was clearly Dwarvish. Bilbo looked over and saw a finely drawn image of the Lonely Mountain and the long lake bellow and Mirkwood indicated to the West. It was a map. Bilbo instantly snatched it away from Nori and began to study it with great interest. He wished he could read Dwarvish runes but it wasn’t all written in Dwavish. Some was written in Westron. 

Nori was forced to peer over the little Hobbit’s shoulder to see his find. He supposed he should be used to such reactions to maps after living with Ori so long, but he wasn’t. He never had such a level of excitement from something like a map of all things. Unless maybe it led to riches of some sort. “Blast,” Bilbo muttered as he tried in vain to understand the thing. “Too much is in Dwarvish. Nori, what does it say?”

Nori shrugged. “Never bothered to learn to read,” he answered casually. “Always more Ori’s thing really.”

Bilbo could only stare. It had never even occurred to him that Nori wouldn’t know how to read. He seemed so intelligent otherwise. And how on earth does one ‘not bother’ to learn? Nori shrugged. “Anyway, looks like a thing o’ some import, yeah? Le’s take it to, His Gruffness the Prince, yeah? ‘Sides, shift’ll be changin’ soon an’ I think ol’ Dwalin’ll have his head explode if he has ta send another shift home early for us.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter but I had fun with it.

Gimli hurried as fast as his he could without it becoming obvious he was, in fact, rushing and reached Thorin’s rooms in record time. The Prince of Erebor was studying some parchment by the window with a key in his hand and Bilbo talking beside him. Well, it seemed more like pestering really but Gimli didn’t think that was too finite a distinction. “Peace, Master Burglar, I’m trying to read it,” Thorin said with annoyance. 

Bilbo huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Burglar isn’t much better than spy,” he muttered with no small amount of annoyance. “You could use my name, you know.”

Thorin ignored the Hobbit. “It says there’s a hidden door in the lower halls but not where it is,” he said after another minute. “It’s good to know about but I don’t see how we’re going to find it to smuggle you or the prince out of the mountain. Perhaps Balin or Ori can find some mention of it somewhere…” The two most book learned members of their group spent almost all time in the library now looking for any information that could possibly help.

“Dwarves!” Bilbo said with no small amount of exasperation. “You overcomplicate everything! I’ve told you before, I don’t need a secret door to leave the mountain!” And he had too. At great length, but Thorin had it stuck in his big fat head that the only way to be sneaky was to find a secret door. Perhaps they might need one to sneak the elf out, which was why Bilbo agreed to go snooping through the King’s chambers in the first place. Bilbo himself, however, didn’t need such things.

“Kíli took your rope and we certainly can’t just open the gates for you,” Thorin pointed out as he lowered the map. 

“Heavens! As if Elvish rope is the only rope in Middle-Earth. I imagine even Dwarves have found some use for it!” Bilbo snapped testily. “Just give me some of yours and I’ll climb down the same way I climbed up, thank you kindly.”

Thorin shook his head. “Our rope is not magical, Bilbo.”

Bilbo threw his hands up. “It’s not as if the rope stopped great massive boulders from hitting me, Thorin! All it does is tie and untie itself. I got through it once, I can do it again.”

“And if the Elves smash you to bits across our mountain?”

“Then we won’t have a chance to argue about it after, now will we?”

The two of them stared for several minutes before Thorin gave a frustrated sounding sigh in defeat and tossed the map to his desk along with the key. “Fine, you stubborn creature. If you want to be foolish far be it from me to stop you. But if they truly didn’t send you they might shoot you on sight. And then we’ll be very hard pressed to get anywhere at all.”

“They won’t see me,” Bilbo said simply. That was perhaps the one thing he was not even slightly unsure about. 

Thorin frowned and was about to ask how the Hobbit could be so certain about something like that when Gimli (who had been trying his best to wait until he was noticed) lost his patience. “He woke up!” he blurted into the moment of silence. 

Both Thorin and Bilbo looked startled to see him but then what he said registered and Thorin crossed the room. “You’re certain? Did he say anything?”

Gimli nodded. “He held my boot knife to my throat… fair certain that’s a sign of consciousness. And he didn’t really say anything but to shut up and that he didn’t trust me. He didn’t stay awake for very long though. Passed out again before I actually got a chance to talk with him much.”

“He held a knife to you?” Bilbo echoed with no small amount of alarm.

Gimli shrugged, he hadn’t really thought it that big of a deal. “It’s not like he has any reason to trust us right now,” he reasoned. “I don’t blame him really. I’d probably do the same in his position.”

Bilbo still seemed put off by that and shifted. “Well, I suppose…” he muttered. “Are you alright at least?” He knew how young Gimli, the two younger Princes, and Ori really were and couldn’t help but worry about them. But since they were the ones that had found the elf it wasn’t as if Thorin could keep them out of things now.

“I’m fine,” Gimli assured with a slight wave. “He gave me a little nick on the skin but that’s about it.”

Thorin frowned. “We’ll have to be more careful around him then,” he mused. “We can’t have him waking up and slitting our throats when we try and help him. Make sure nobody brings any weapons into the chamber from now on.”

The younger dwarf frowned at the order and straightened a little. He knew what he was about to say wouldn’t go over well but he was sure it had been the right thing to do. “I let him keep the knife,” he announced. “I wanted him to trust us and if I were him I’d want to be armed,” he added in a rush.

“You what!?” Thorin thought he’d misheard but that defiant look on the son of Glóin told him he hadn’t. “Well, go back and get the knife back! Until he does trust us it’s too dangerous to let him have a knife!”

“He knows he’s too weak to get out on his own!” Gimli argued. “He couldn’t even seem to get to his feet! I don’t think he’ll kill us and letting him stay armed will show him we trust him and he can trust us! I could still overpower him easily. There’s no danger in letting him keep the knife and it’ll make him feel safer!” Thorin still didn’t look remotely convinced. “I know what I’m doing, Prince Thorin. Really, I do.”

“I doubt that,” Thorin grumbled. He paced over to the window and then back across the room. He didn’t like it at all despite Gimli making a fairly decent argument about it. It went against everything he’d been taught to allow an Elf in the mountain and leave him armed. Then again, holding an Elf Prince against his will and causing an international incident was rather against what he’d been taught as well.

Thorin glanced back at the youngest of their conspirators and sighed. Gimli was looking particularly stubborn today. “Very well. He can keep it for now. But if he tries to knife anyone else I will insist you get it back from him. No arguments, Gimli.” The redhead looked about ready to give some of those arguments but then bit his tongue and nodded. Thorin nodded back and then turned to Bilbo. “And I still don’t think climbing down the battlements to be the best idea.”

“I can do it,” Bilbo said simply.

Thorin sighed and rubbed his face with one hand. It would figure that the one Hobbit in the world that was as stubborn as any Dwarf would be the one sent to ‘help’ them. The adorable little curly haired menace would get himself killed being this bold. Thorin froze as he realized what he’d just thought and then worked hard to pretend he hadn’t. Instead, he turned to Bilbo. “What would you need then, besides rope?” Best to stick to business.

“Just someone to untie it once I was done and for someone to keep the guards away,” Bilbo said. “Last time I had to wait hanging off the edge for a few minutes for the guards to pass before I could climb over the edge.” Really the problem had come in the fact that the rope had tied itself on the outside of the battlements and Bilbo had to then climb the last foot or so without the rope’s help, but it had all worked out in the end.

“Get Nori to help you again,” Thorin said with a bit of a frown on his face. The battlements weren’t constantly manned due to the barrage of Elf boulders hitting the mountain but whenever the Elves had to reload their catapults, then the guards came out to keep watch. Nori could probably time everything in that short span of time better than anyone else. Something told Thorin he was very used to timing the rotation of the guards. Although, doubtful with the added difficulty of dodging massive boulders slamming all around them.


	29. Chapter 29

Bilbo tried to not worry overly much as he climbed down the rope that was hanging over the side of the battlements. It was hard though. There hadn’t been a long gap in time between him clambering over the edge and the booms of shattering rocks picking back up again. Nori was keeping an eye out supposedly so Bilbo had waited until he was halfway down the rope to dig into his pocket. He slipped the ring on while he was still climbing so that he disappeared from sight. Nori wouldn’t have been able to see him from so far away, especially since if the Dwarf had any sense at all (which Bilbo was certain he did) he’d have backed away from the edge.

After several minutes of climbing, Bilbo managed to get his feet back on solid ground and sighed in relief. Now, he just had to find Gandalf. Hopefully, he’d also catch a glimpse of Kíli and be able to assure Thorin that his nephew was all in one piece. Preferably a living piece. He really didn’t want to have to tell Thorin anything differently. Nor his sister. She was frightening.

It took a few calming breaths to work up his courage, but then Bilbo hurried towards the camp of Elves. He didn’t have to be too careful really as it was still quite some distance away and it was dark, but he’d rather not take chances either. He was very much prepared to duck behind cover if that turned out to be something that needed to be done. Especially if a boulder came flying at his head. 

Bilbo slowed when he got closer to the front line of the Elves. He had been terribly worried the first time he’d snuck past them and was certain his heartbeat alone would have given him away. But spending so long sneaking around an entire mountain had eased at least a few of his nerves. Plus, he was also aware that there was a wizard here that should be vouching for him unlike in the mountain where he had nobody but his own word. 

Of course, the blockade was a rather large structure full of Elves and animals and even an occasional human that looked to be a merchant or messenger type. None of the people walking around were Wizards though. A distinct lack of long beards and pointy hats made that quite clear even to casual surveyors. A Dwarf would stick out even easier, he thought.

The Hobbit paused by the side of a large tower of crates that were stamped with the insignia of Dale. Here he was out of the way and could think about things for a moment. He really had no idea where a prisoner would be kept. Would they even keep Kíli here? Or would they send him to the Woodland Realm? Hmm… probably best to focus on Gandalf after all. So then, that begged the question as to where Gandalf might be. 

Well, if Bilbo remembered rightly, Gandalf had said something or another about speaking with the Elfking. Well, _he_ should definitely stand out from what Thorin had told him. Then again, Thorin hadn’t given the most… _flattering_ of descriptions either. Bilbo was fairly certain a King wouldn’t actually stick ‘dead twigs and leaves in his hair like a birds nest’ as Thorin had described. Of course being ‘tall, blonde, and pale’ hadn’t been all that more helpful now that Bilbo took the time to look around at the Elves. He hadn’t really dared to do so when he sneaked past the first time but now he could see that _all_ the Elves were tall and pale. They weren’t all blonde thankfully but there were enough that such a description didn’t help much.

Bilbo thought back to the sporadic information he’d gotten and suddenly recalled the crest of the Mirkwood Heraldry emblazoned upon the top of the Elfking’s family tree. That was supposed to be on a flag somewhere, yes?

Bilbo carefully climbed the stack of boxes beside him so that he would get a better view of the camp. He squinted into the distance to try and find it before slowly turning in a circle. He didn’t even have to turn halfway around before he spotted the banner in the distance. It was a rich green with silvery stag horns crowned with stars that seemed to catch the firelight. 

That had to be it! Bilbo sighed in relief and carefully started the more difficult task of getting off of his perch. Luckily it was significantly easier to climb down a stack of barrels than it was to climb down a sheer rock wall so it only took him a moment or two of careful navigating.

After brushing some dirt from his clothes, Bilbo straightened and made his way towards the building that had the Mirkwood Heraldry flying above it. It hadn’t seemed very far at all but Bilbo soon came to realize he couldn’t just make a straight line to it. There were several campfires and buildings in the way, not to mention more than just a few guards. Bilbo supposed it made sense there would be guards around. If he were right, this was the King’s quarters.

Bilbo slipped through the door as quickly as he could while also trying to move as little of the door as he could get away with. He was a little surprised to see an Elf reclined on a chaise and staring into a goblet with a bit of a frown. “Of course,” he muttered before reaching to the side where there were already several bottles of wine open. He seemed to select one at random and poured the rich red liquid into his cup. It didn’t fill the goblet entirely it didn’t seem, but the Elf didn’t seem to notice.

“My Lord Thranduil, surely you should retire so that you can question the prisoner tomorrow,” a female Elf with some of the longest hair Bilbo had ever seen said as she stepped forward to take the now empty bottle.

Thranduil didn’t really seem to acknowledge her and instead took a long drink from his cup. Bilbo felt like he should turn around immediately and leave, but he wasn’t sure how he would manage it. The female sighed and pushed some long rusty red hair over her shoulder. Bilbo couldn’t help but wonder if this was a common occurrence since she seemed so resigned to it. Then what she said actually registered in Bilbo’s head. Question the prisoner? That meant that Kíli was alive in the camp! Well, not definitively, Bilbo supposed, but it was close enough to cheer him up slightly!

“Tauriel,” Thranduil said as he stared into his cup again thoughtfully.

“Yes, My Lord?”

“… Do you remember his smile? His laugh?”

Bilbo saw Tauriel stiffen. “Of course! I could never forget such things!”

“I am beginning to fear that I am,” Thranduil murmured. “Everyday that passes without these joys makes me wonder if my memory is truthful or not. It has been so long already… I fear that this _Dwarf_ , if he is not sincere, will be yet another taunt over us.”

Something dangerous flickered behind Tauriel’s wooden expression. “If he is he to but deliver taunts, I shall kill him myself, my Lord.” Her voice was chilly and Bilbo actually felt the need to shiver.

Thranduil smiled at his wine. It was not a nice smile at all. “As always you are so very dependable, Tauriel. No wonder Legolas has always been so fond of you. Your honesty and devotion are quite refreshing… especially now.” He reached to the side for another bottle but when he went to up end this one nothing but a few drops trickled out. Thranduil frowned at it but then held it out to his Commander.

Tauriel took this empty bottle as well although what she was supposed to do with them, Bilbo could only guess. “I promise you, I’ll find out everything that I can from the Dwarf, if you’d rather not question him personally.”

“I must do this myself,” Thranduil said in a voice that was somehow firm and soft at the same time. “I must… although more wine would be quite welcome,” he said as he held the half filled goblet up slightly. Tauriel looked like she wanted to protest again but instead went to get a bottle that wasn’t empty.

Just then the door that Bilbo had still been lingering near opened and in came a familiar grey-robed old man. The Hobbit sighed and nearly began speaking before catching himself. “Ah, Mithrandir, done with your meddling for now are you?” Thranduil asked with a bit of a sneer. “I do hope you haven’t grown overly attached to the Dwarf.”

Gandalf frowned but seemed to decide against commenting outright. “He told me many interesting things, Thranduil,” Gandalf said as the Elfking drank more wine from his cup. “We could use them to our advantage. Perhaps the Dwarves inside the mountain can be of even more help and we will have Legolas back before the end of the year.” Thranduil didn’t look optimistic at all. Gandalf cleared his throat a bit and almost seemed to fidget under the half or more drunk Elf fixed him with a terrifying focused and sober gaze. People who had drank as much as the Elfking seemed to have done that evening shouldn’t be capable of looks like that.

Somehow, among the wizard’s gracious good byes and promises to keep things moving along in the search for Legolas, Bilbo found himself outside in a small alcove made of a wagon and several crates. Gandalf nodded to several Elves that walked past and made a show of lighting his pipe. “You are a continued source of surprise, Bilbo Baggins,” he murmured and Bilbo flinched.

“You can see me?” he asked before he remembered he shouldn’t. He ducked behind Gandalf’s robes where there was no chance of being spotted and pulled the ring off of his finger although a strange reluctance seemed to settle upon him. He’d actually rather liked being invisible again after having lost the ring for that short period of time within the mountain.

“It is not so much seeing as simply knowing,” Gandalf said as Bilbo tucked the ring into his pocket and stepped back into the open. The Elves didn’t seem to realize that he hadn’t been there just moments before anything of the sort. “Once we are done with the matter of the missing Elf Prince, you will have to tell me where you came by such a thing.”

Bilbo cringed a little but nodded. It wasn’t that big of a deal but he for some reason wasn’t at all looking forward to it. “It will be quite the story.”

“No doubt. But first, Legolas. Have you been sent with any news that young Kíli did not have?” Gandalf asked.

“He woke up briefly,” Bilbo said. “He threatened Gimli, that’s one of the Dwarves guarding him, but then fell back into his trance or whatever it is.”

There was silence for a moment before Gandalf shook his head. “This is good at least. Tell me anything else you know.” Bilbo was only too happy to oblige though it was rather odd. Sometimes Gandalf’s face would just darken inexplicably and he refused to explain. Bilbo was left wondering what he had shared that made Gandalf look so apprehensive. Probably nothing good. Bilbo’s heart sunk at the thought.


	30. Chapter 30

The forest around him swayed and twisted with the wind. The flowers bowed along with the long grass under his feet. The distant sound of water echoed through woods along with the sound of singing. It was the sweetest noise that Gimli had ever heard. He started walking through the woods towards the sounds. He couldn't understand the words but they drew him near anyway.

Gimli recognized the clearing from his other dream and once again couldn't help but be taken aback by the beauty of the place. The crystals within the stream seemed to have multiplied since last he was here but he did note that they had darkened slightly. There were more impurities and the colors deeper. He wasn't at all sure what to make of the change. Or if it was even a change at all. Perhaps he was just imagining it. There were clouds in the sky today so that might have made the crystals seem darker.

Either way, Gimli only had a few moments to ponder before noticing the source of the singing. Before when Gimli had been here, Legolas had been asleep like he was in real life. Now, however, he was sitting on the chaise very much awake and singing. He was still wearing the same silvery robe and had acquired a comb somehow to use on his long locks. It only took him a moment to notice Gimli standing there and he instantly stopped singing and turned those brilliant blue eyes in the Dwarf's direction. "You again."

Gimli thought there might have been a bit of accusation in the Elf Prince's voice. As if he deliberately ended up here or something. He swallowed hard and took another few steps into the clearing. He felt very inadequate as Legolas looked him up and down. "How did you get here again?"

"I don't even know where here is," Gimli said waving to the enchanting forest around them.

Judging from the look on the Elf's face, Legolas didn't believe him. Or perhaps it was just a general lack of trust. Gimli did his best to not be offended by it. "It is a lovely place though," Gimli offered, more to fill the silence between them. He wasn't sure why he wasn't somehow waking up like he had the first time those blue eyes had met his. 

Legolas glanced around the clearing for a moment before his gaze settled on Gimli again. "Why are you here?" he asked.

"Like I said, I don't know where here is or how I got here. I have no reason myself to be here, I don't think," Gimli said. "Would you mind telling me where here is, by the way? Perhaps that would clear some things up for both of us."

There were several moments of silence as Legolas seemed to think about it. Finally, he gestured to the clearing with the hand wielding the comb. "This is nothing more than a figment," he said. "It doesn't actually exist and so you should not have been able to reach it without some intent to do so." 

Well, that explained... about nothing, really. Gimli blinked and looked around again. He supposed it did make sense. Such a magical place surely didn't actually exist. It was just... too lovely. "So, how did I get here if it shouldn't be possible?"

"A very good question," Legolas said as he lifted his comb to rest against his bottom lip thoughtfully. "I am not the best with enchantments. Perhaps I made a mistake in its casting..." 

Gimli thought that hadn't actually been directed at him but he couldn't quite stay quiet. "You cast an enchantment?"

Legolas' eyes snapped up. "What else was I to do? Hang from your ceiling in agony with no relief?" he demanded. "This place is the only reprieve that I have from that torment."

The Dwarf held up his hands. "No, of course, you shouldn't suffer! I just didn't know you could even do that!"

Blue eyes still blazed for a moment before softening slightly. He seemed to have at least accepted that, though he still looked rather annoyed. "As I said, it isn't my specialty," he murmured. "Father has always been better. I tried to copy one of his as best I could and this was all that I could manage even after years of attempts."

"We are trying to free you, you know," Gimli murmured. "We've tried to contact your Father to plan a way to get you out of that room."

"Father would rather kill you all," Legolas said casually.

Gimli couldn't help but shift his weight uneasily. "Perhaps... and some of us might even deserve it. But most of us in the Mountain don't even know you exist much less what the King is doing to you." He wasn't sure if such a distinction would matter to Legolas or his Father but Gimli hoped that it would. Only the oldest Dwarves in the mountain would have even had a chance to be alive before Legolas had been imprisoned. "What we're doing is treasonous... it might cost us our heads but it's the right thing to do. Please, believe our intentions really are true."

There were another few moments as Legolas studied him. "I trusted Dwarves once, it cost me my freedom and much pain. What makes you think I would do so again?"

That was a very good and difficult question and Gimli wished he didn't have to be the one trying to answer it. "Because we follow Prince Thorin and he isn't mad... and, despite what we'd all like, you really don't have much choice, I'm afraid." He hated to point it out but if Legolas kept fighting them things would be unnecessarily harder on them all.

A dark look crossed the Elf Prince's face at that. Again, Gimli raised his hands to show he meant no offense. "I'm sorry, but it _is_ true."

"I am aware of my situation and how few options I have," Legolas said icily. "I don't need you to remind me."

"You asked," Gimli pointed out. "I'm just being honest. I thought you might appreciate honesty after everything you've been through."

Legolas glared for several moments before sighing. "I suppose, in a way," he said as he turned the comb over in his hands. "But it is still maddening."

Silence stretched between them for several minutes and Gimli turned his attention to the stream. He could see why Legolas would seek refuge here. It was a peaceful place far removed from the gem-studded white marble walls of the Heart Chamber. The wind rustled the leaves of the woods and kicked up the fresh scent of the flowers. 

Gimli glanced at the Elf out of the corner of his eye but Legolas still seemed to be in some sort of deep thought. He was a little surprised that Legolas could ignore his presence but then he did seem more relaxed and confident here. "Why haven't you kicked me out yet?" he asked, unable to help himself. He probably shouldn't have brought it to the Elf's attention but it was bothering him. The first time he was here he got ejected as soon as Legolas was aware of him.

Legolas looked over. "Would you rather I kick you out?"

"No! It's just... last time you did," Gimli said.

A rather annoyed look crossed over his pretty ageless face. "I'm not sure how you're here. I don't know to remove you... last time it wasn't something I actually thought about," he admitted. "If I had studied my father's enchantments closer I might have more of an idea how you are here and how to remove you..."

"Well, since I am here... I could certainly at least try to keep you company," Gimli suggested. "I know I'm just a Dwarf and probably not your favorite person but I'd be glad to try."

Legolas tilted his head to the side and considered. "What makes you think I need company in the first place?"

"You've been locked away for three hundred years. I imagine that's a long time to be alone even for Elves," Gimli pointed out dryly. "Besides, what else am I going to do here?"

"What else indeed," Legolas mused before leaning back in his chaise lounge.

The silence was heavy again as Gimli turned to stare at the river again. There was something very fascinating about the way the water shimmered under the colors of the crystals and moved over the smoothed stones. "You seem quite young to be a guard already," Legolas said suddenly.

Gimli actually jumped some before turning to look at Legolas. "What?"

"I might have been kept mostly alone but I've picked up more than a few things about Dwarves over the last few centuries," Legolas said as he continued to fiddle with his comb. "And you are young still. I can tell," he said gesturing idly towards Gimli's beard.

The Dwarf scowled some. "Aye, well, perhaps a bit," he muttered. "But I'm no child either."

"No, otherwise you wouldn't have been allowed to guard the chamber at all, I expect," he said as he looked up at the sky. "But you are significantly younger than I would have thought you'd be. Are you some sort of prodigy perhaps?"

Gimli puffed up a little at the question. "Well, I wouldn't say that so much, although my father might. Guarding you is one of the most prestigious positions in the mountain."

"I'm flattered," Legolas said, as dry as a desert.

Gimli flinched a little. "Ah, right. Sorry." Legolas was quiet and just waved his hand dismissively. "But, anyway, yes, this was my first assignment I was given. It was mostly due to my skill with an axe since I have no other experience."

Legolas remained silent and just continued to look up at the sky. Gimli felt awkward. Though he was the one that suggested keeping the Elf company he had no earthly idea what the Prince would find to be good company. He couldn't imagine Legolas would want to hear all that much about Dwarves. He'd probably had enough of Dwarves. That thought was unusually sad for him and he pushed it back as best he could. What did he mind if the captive Elf didn't like Dwarves? It made sense he wouldn't.

"So, what were you singing?" Gimli asked as he turned to sit on a nearby boulder.

He lifted his head with an eyebrow raised. "What?"

"When I came in, you were singing something," Gimli clarified. "I was just wondering what it was."

Legolas fiddled with his comb again. "It was a hymn to the stars, the exact star you probably wouldn't recognize the name of," he said. "But it is a favorite of mine. I would tell you more but I doubt you'd be interested and I'm not a very good translator either..."

"I might be more interested than you think," Gimli said, slightly offended by the assumption.

"Are you?" Legolas asked, sounding surprised and slightly disbelieving.

Gimli folded his arms across his chest. "Tell me. Something tells me you know more about Dwarves than I do about Elves. We should probably even that out, don't you think?"

"It isn't as if your people started telling me secrets," Legolas said with an eyebrow up. "I just happened to overhear some things when they thought I was unconscious. They'd probably be quite offended I know anything at all."

"Be that as it may, I'm interested. So tell me. What's the harm?" Gimli asked.

Legolas studied him for several moments before nodding slightly. "If you insist... but don't blame me if you grow bored."


	31. Chapter 31

"Take a look at this, Thorin," Balin said as he laid out a book in front of Thorin. "This is an account of the team behind building the Chamber."

"I see," Thorin said as he stared down at the book. It was a lot of nothing words to him since this was the first time he'd seen it and it was right smack dab in the middle of the thing. "What have you found, Balin?"

Balin huffed a little. "The Dwarf who designed the 'energy system' was named Hral. Hral, died two decades ago but Ori found his journal. It was tucked in with the other personal records." He put a smaller book down on top of the first one. The second book was also opened.

Thorin nodded a bit and stared down at the second book. "Alright, and what does that tell us?" He would very much like it if Balin would just come out and say whatever it was he'd found out.

"He makes mention to some diagrams that he found in another Dwarf's personal records but he didn't bother to mention who it was," Balin explained. "Ori's looking for them now but from what it sounds like, it was a lot like what he designed to use the Elf."

"Did he make mention to how to get the Elf out of that contraption?" Thorin asked. He wasn't as curious about where Hral got the ideas but how to fix things. Sure, it was great to know that Hral had been the one to design things and set everything up but the Dwarf was dead so that only helped to a point.

"I don't think he ever planned for removing the Elf," Balin admitted. "He certainly didn't write anything about it in his personal journals. But that's why Ori is looking for the other diagrams to see if whoever designed whatever it was that Hral based his contraption on had some way to remove the power source."

Thorin frowned at the book in front of him. "Of course it couldn't be easy..."

"We'll keep searching until we find something, Thorin," Balin said as he straightened some. "But there's a lot of records to go through, there's no telling how long it'll take."

"Does Hral have any children that might have kept some of his other papers and things?" Thorin asked. Though many engineers and inventors logged work journals in the great library almost all kept their own personal notes as well that often stayed in families. "Perhaps he has a more detailed version of his notes somewhere."

Balin nodded a little. "I don't know but I'll search. I think I did read he had some children so I'll look for their names and see if they have anymore information." Thorin leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead. He had rather hoped that this situation would have been resolved by now but apparently not. Balin went to take his books back off of Thorin's desk when he spotted a severely edited paper. "What's this?" he asked, tugging the parchment out to better study it. Just like he thought it was a letter addressed to Dáin.

"A plea to my cousin," Thorin said gesturing to it. "I'm having trouble figuring out how to best phrase things... or even how much to explain."

"I thought the Iron Hills would hear nothing of intervening," Balin questioned.

"That was when we were asking them to fight the Elves," Thorin pointed out. "We aren't fighting Elves now though... we're trying to save one. And doing so is treasonous. Dáin's promise to his father was simply to not help us to fight the Elves. To force us to deal with the situation ourselves... probably because Grór knew something of what had happened..."

Balin was quiet for a few moments as he tried to puzzle out the dozens of edits and rewrites the letter had suffered through. It was indeed a jumble though and he couldn't make much sense of it. "I wonder how many of our people outside of the mountain know the true cause of our struggle with the Elves..." Thorin muttered. He didn't like the thought at all. He knew that the Elves probably had spread the word among themselves and Thorin doubted the Elves could think much less of them than they did already. If other Dwarves were to know though... that would be even worse. They could disappoint other Dwarves in ways that they couldn't disappoint Elves.

"Do you think Dáin will support us?" Balin asked, carefully keeping his own opinion to himself. He wasn't being asked for advice right now. Thorin was going to do it despite what anyone thought and Balin had learned the importance of when to _not_ advise.

Thorin sighed and shook his head a little. "It's hard to say... I think it depends on how well I can manage to explain this mess," Thorin admitted. "We have all known that the King Under the Mountain to be the rightful ruler that can bring all the clans together. It has always been such and now, we're challenging that with a story that is, frankly, very difficult to believe if you have not seen the proof of it."

Balin nodded in agreement. It wasn't something to go blabbering about to just anyone. Thorin was right to be cautious. "Even if Dáin does not support you, I cannot see him turning against you either," he reasoned. "He will not support your Father over you."

"No. But he may think me crazed and write to Father asking after my health," Thorin drawled with incredible dryness. "That would certainly cause suspicions..."

"If Dáin writes to anyone about your health he'd write to Dís and she already knows you aren't crazy," Balin pointed out. Although the Lord of the Iron Hills had never officially met his cousins in Erebor they had always been close confidants through letters. Thráin had never been one to write to the other Dwarven Kingdoms even before he took the throne. Thrór had disapproved of it, which now made far more sense than it ever had before.

There were several long minutes of silence as the two Dwarves contemplated the situation. "Perhaps if all of us wrote to Dáin telling him what we saw he would be more convinced?" Balin suggested. "I doubt he could question the sanity of all of us."

"I will think about it," Thorin said. "Unfortunately, it seems as if I may have the time to do so. This would be better if I could speak to Dáin in person. Letters do not quite carry the same amount of urgency as speaking to someone face to face."

"Kíli is out of the mountain," Balin commented lightly.

Thorin's expression turned near thunderous. "He is being held by the Elves, I don't see how that helps us," he nearly growled.

Balin waved his hand a little. "Say for a moment that he wasn't," he began, "Kíli does know the situation and saw the Elf with his own eyes. He would be an ideal messenger to send to Dain should a letter not be convincing enough."

"Do you forget how far the Iron Hills are?" Thorin demanded. "And Kíli would have to try and travel there _alone_ without any supplies, it's completely ridiculous to even think about."

"Kíli is a resourceful lad," Balin continued as if Thorin hadn't said anything at all. "And he is Royal Blood. That carries quite a bit of weight still. It isn't as if the Halls of the Iron Hills are particularly hidden away. He should be able to find it without too much difficulty. He's already proven willing to do somewhat desperate things for the sake of the cause."

Thorin just stared at his advisor and one of his best friends as if he'd suddenly sprouted another head. "I am not sending my nephew to the Iron Hills alone to beg a favor from Dáin," he stated firmly.

"Of course, it's your decision," Balin said pleasantly. "But if you want your Cousin's help, I just thought that it might be more convincing if Kíli hand delivered the note to express how important it was."

"Absolutely not," Thorin insisted. "Besides, he would never go so far from Fíli." It had been impressive he'd even left the mountain without his brother honestly.

"Ah, speaking of Fíli..."

Thorin nearly groaned. "What now?"

"It's just he hasn't shown up for his last few lessons," Balin said. "Admittedly we haven't been doing much besides searching for information about the Elf Prince but... he hasn't even bothered sending in an excuse. I was wondering if you'd seen him."

"No... not since..." Thorin did groan at that realization. He hadn't seen his other nephew since shortly after they'd decided the best way to get Master Baggins out of the mountain. "I'm going to kill them both. I can get a new Heir, right? Lots of people want to be Princes?"

"With what's on your plate right now, Thorin? You couldn't pay me to be a Prince in this mountain," Balin said without a trace of sarcasm. It was bad enough just advising Princes.

Thorin sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead with one hand. "Right, can't argue with that..." He was going to have to talk with his sister again. He hated the idea of talking to his sister right now. Especially to tell her that another of her sons had run out of the mountain to be foolish and heroic. Where in Durin's name did they get such impulses!? "My beard will grow whiter than yours by the time this is over, my friend..."


	32. Chapter 32

Waking up was getting easier than it had been, however, it was still unnecessarily difficult. It felt like he'd only closed his eyes a moment ago rather than the several hours he knew it must have been. Normally he had trouble telling how much time had passed by for him while he retreated to happier dreams where the pain couldn't reach him. But what with his surprise guest, he could at least assume it had been a while. He was almost positive that the dwarf couldn't reach his dream realm unless he too was asleep. Legolas was fairly certain that their 'conversation' had to have lasted longer than just a few moments. The Elf wasn't sure how to take the recent development, in all honesty. After doing his best to explain and translate his favorite song to the young Dwarf, things had proceeded to get very awkward. Legolas hadn't wanted to really talk much more and Gimli had struggled to think up anything to talk about that an Elf being held captive by Dwarves might want to actually hear about. All Gimli knew was the life in the mountain and Legolas probably didn't want to hear about _that_ of all things.

It had been a relief when the meeting had ended. Gimli had obviously woken up first as he'd disappeared right there from the clearing. Legolas had stared after him for a few moments, unsure how to take the rather odd sight. On one hand, he wasn't upset to be alone again in his sanctuary. On the other, he hadn't entirely expected it and the clearing felt... a lot more empty than he had thought it would without company. He'd never had company before and certainly not from a Dwarf.

Legolas had woken not long after he had been left alone again. He didn't try to move and just slowly blinked while taking stock of himself. Nothing seemed to have changed really, which he still wasn't sure if it should be surprising or not. He was used to being in the same situation time and time again when he woke up but before it had been seeing nothing but blackness while hanging from his wrists. The Elf had grown used to being all but forgotten about by his captors. The fact that he wasn't anymore still left him slightly uneasy. He was glad things were better but that did imply things could now get worse. That was always something to be wary about.

It took a moment but then Legolas realized something was tucked under his hand. He blinked and lifted his palm off the bed to see what it was. He was more than a little surprised to see the knife he'd taken from the Dwarf -Gimli he tried to remind himself- was still there. The captured Prince was more than surprised to see it there. Though he had said he'd be keeping it he hadn't actually thought he'd be allowed to keep it. He wouldn't have allowed a captive to keep a weapon. 

He stared at the knife for several moments. It wasn't very big. Certainly it wasn't intimidating enough to use to escape with even though he'd have liked to try. The blade was sharp but not much longer than his own palm. The handle was a little small for his hand but was smoothly carved and simple. The only decoration on it at all was a few runes carved into the side of the wood. Legolas traced the line of the wood as he considered the implications of being allowed to have even this small knife. It didn't make sense from captor/prisoner angle, which he was well aware of after running the prison of the Woodland Realm for several decades. Even if the Dwarves were being sincere in their efforts to help him, allowing him to hold onto a blade was surprising.

He thought back to when he'd taken it from Gimli and frowned a little. He had asked only that Legolas not cut the hideous things coming out of his back. The Elf Prince gripped the knife handle tightly. He wanted badly to hack into the terrible things. They _burned_ holes into his back and felt like they were ripping bits and pieces of him away constantly. He couldn't even breathe without feeling fresh bolts of pain. His ribs expanding shifted the red hot posts stabbing into his body. His breaths had to come shallow and slightly fast to avoid the sharp pains that would occure otherwise. It left him unable to fully relax despite having very little energy.

Legolas ran his fingers over the handle of the knife again and then slowly gripped it. He should cut the horrid things out. They were offensive to him in every way and he wanted them _out_. He'd even raised the knife towards his shoulder before Gimli's warning came back to him. Guards coming in to subdue him wasn't appealing. The very thought of being strung up and imprisoned behind those masks again made his hand shake more than it had done in centuries. He let his hand fall back down and lightly hit the thin mattress beneath him. How incredibly... unsatisfying...

The Prince laid there for another moment before deciding to risk attempting to sit up. He'd been trying to do so the last few times he'd woken as a gauge of how recovered he was. It took a moment to gather his strength but was glad that he actually managed to push his upper body off of the ground this time. He couldn't help but groan at the pain of moving his body when spikes were rammed into his back but he pushed that to the side. He was too stubborn to let it stop him. The effort it took to remain upright was dizzing however. Legolas had to keep his head down a bit and lean most of his weight on his arms in order to keep from falling right over. But he was able to stay in the new position for several moments before he heard the sound of the door opening.

Gimli was very surprised when he entered the Heart Chamber and saw his charge half sitting up. His hair was hanging around his bowed head, hiding his face from view. Judging by how his arms were trembling it was clear that it hadn't been easy pushing himself up even that far. "You're awake," Gimli said before closing the door and hurrying over to help.

Legolas glanced up through the curtain of hair. His blue eyes were definitely looking tired and lines of strain were etched into his face. "For the moment," he murmured. Gimli almost winced at the roughness of the Elf's voice. "The food you've been giving me is helping."

"You realized we were doing that?" Gimli asked, slightly surprised. He had assumed the Elf was completely unaware of what was going on around him while he was in that trance of his.

"I saw the bowls," Legolas answered. Just then, his arm gave out but thankfully, Gimli was close enough to catch him before he hit the ground. "Thank you..."

"Don't worry about it. You probably shouldn't push yourself, though." 

Legolas sighed and reached up to push his hair back from his face with one trembling arm. It was still an unwashed and now even more tangled mess and he didn't need it in his face right then. "I wish to leave this place and I cannot do that if I can't even move."

"Yeah, I get that, but you're not doing yourself any favors by using up all your energy like this," Gimli pointed out. The Elf didn't reply to that but allowed Gimli to help lower him back to his makeshift bed. "Speaking of food, Bombur should be by soon with something for you. It's probably soup again but we don't want to push your stomach too soon."

"It's fine," Legolas murmured as he closed his eyes. There were several moments of silence between them. Gimli wasn't sure what to say and Legolas was content to just recover from his exertion. "You left the knife."

It took Gimli a moment to remember what Legolas was talking about but then found himself blushing for no reason whatsoever. It wasn't like it had been a big deal or anything. "Well, yeah," he said before clearing his throat. "I know you have no reason to trust us but I thought maybe having that would help a little."

Legolas opened his eyes again to look up at the Dwarf. He studied his guard carefully for several minutes. "It's foolish. Leaving me with a weapon."

Gimli shrugged a little. "Probably. But I already decided."

There were another few minutes of silence, which Gimli couldn't decide if they were awkward or not. It wasn't as awkward as some but it wasn't an entirely comfortable silence either. He nervously adjusted the blanket that had fallen to Legolas' waist when he sat up to cover more of his bandaged torso. "Your father's outside, you know."

"I'm aware..." Legolas agreed. "King Thrór was very upset when my Father would not simply pay ransom. He didn't believe me when I told him my Father would not simply go away. He seemed to think Father was easy to pay off."

"He was mad," Gimli said. "It's obvious by what he did. No Dwarf in their right mind would do such things to anyone." Legolas hummed a little but Gimli couldn't tell if it was in agreement or just to show he'd heard. The Elf closed his eyes and seemed to be trying to relax. He didn't look to be managing it too well. Gimli waited for a moment before he just couldn't sit there any longer. "Can I help at all?"

Legolas opened his eyes again to look over at the Dwarf. "What I would like is impossible currently..." he said. "I have not rested on my back in centuries now."

Gimli frowned and looked at the cords darkly. He really disliked them and even more disliked that he couldn't safely remove them yet. "I can understand that," he muttered. "If I could help I would but the only thing I can think of doing is what I was before and hold you-"

"No."

Gimli held up his hands in defense. He wasn't really surprised by the instant refusal that got from the Elf. And he wasn't overly fond of the idea of Legolas getting his hands on another of Gimli's smaller bladed weapons anyway. One was quite enough. "I didn't say I was going to. Just that's all I could come up with."

The silence returned for a few moments as blue eyes moved over every inch of Gimli. "Are you trying to become my friend, Dwarf?" Legolas asked, sounding very uneasy at the idea.

"Would you be opposed to having a friend in a Dwarf?" Gimli asked back. "I mean, there aren't really many options for you right now besides us Dwarves." Legolas scowled but Gimli did his best to not be offended by it. "Certain even Elf Princelings like having friends."

"I already have friends."

"But not in here."

Legolas scowled darker and Gimli held up his hands again. "Not trying to upset you. I'm just telling you the truth," he assured the Elf. "And if after this you never want to see another Dwarf again, well, I can't blame you."

"I suppose you're not as bad as some..." Legolas said after several moments. Gimli smirked a little. It wasn't exactly a glowing endorsement or anything like that but it was progress. This time he wasn't getting a knife held to his throat.

There was a series of knocks -or more likely kicks- on the door and Gimli got to his feet. "That'll be your food," Gimli said as he went over to open it for Bombur. He always had his hands full so Gimli opened the door wider than he normally did to let the rotund Dwarf and his tray inside. Bombur gave his usual jolly grin but then stopped when he noticed that he was being actively looked at by the Elf for once. "Ah, Bombur, Prince Legolas woke up," Gimli said as he shut the door. "Legolas, this is Bombur... Head Cook in the Royal Kitchens."

Legolas inclined his head slightly. "You've been making my food?" Bombur, still seemingly shocked, nodded. "Then I thank you... it's helped greatly."

"No need to thank me!" Bombur said, his red mustache bristling somewhat. "Yer still skin and bones! Starving someone's just not right!" he said as he carried the tray over and put it down near Legolas. "An' if you don't like something tell me an' I won't make it for you again."

The Elf regarded the large Dwarf carefully. "...I'm afraid I haven't tasted much of what you've made. Nor can I really be picky. As you said... I am too much in need of food to worry about taste."

Bombur frowned. "Now that won't do," he said firmly. "You won't get better if you don't even like yer food."

Legolas raised an eyebrow at that. "Well then, I will tell you if any improvements come to mind," he said. He figured it was easier than reminding the Dwarf that he hadn't actually been awake enough to have an opinion on his food yet. Instead he looked down at the tray in front of him. It was a large bowl of soup and a mug of some strong smelling tea mixture that Óin had insisted would help the Elf recover. Nothing he had to chew since he had been unconscious up until now. "I wouldn't mind some bread though since I'm now awake."

"O' course! I'll bring some and some preserves too. Hard to eat just dry bread," Bombur said with a warm grin. Legolas tried hard to not find the Dwarf anything less than a potential threat but it was hard. Nothing about the Dwarf -at least at the moment- spoke of danger. Except possibly the danger of overeating.

"Could you bring Thorin back with you too?" Gimli asked. "I'm sure he'd want to talk to Legolas now that he's awake."

Legolas frowned slightly. "Thorin?" That name wasn't familiar to him at all.

"Prince Thorin Oakenshield. Son of Thráin. He's the one in charge of our little act of treason," Gimli supplied for him. The Elf narrowed his eyes a little even as Bombur quickly left to get Thorin and the requested bread. "What's with that look?" Gimli asked.

"I do not trust a son of Thráin."

"You haven't even met him yet," Gimli argued.

"I did not know his father either until he broke my jaw," Legolas said. "I'm not sure what next bone in my body your current Prince will want to break." 

"Thorin isn't like that."

Legolas inclined his head slightly. "We shall see then. Won't we?"


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally meet! How will Thorin and Legolas get on?
> 
>  
> 
> ....not SUPER well...

Thorin paused outside of the gold plated door that led to the secret chamber and just stared at it for several minutes. He was unsure about this upcoming meeting with his father's captive. He shouldn't be. The Elf was, by all accounts, in no condition to do much at all. But that was a poor excuse if ever he heard one. It was because the Elf was weak and vulnerable that made him so uneasy. He would much rather be about to face an Elf who wasn't holding some massive (and probably well deserved) grudge against his family. Thorin straightened his shoulders and pushed his trepidation down. He was still Prince of Erebor and he would conduct himself how he should.

He knocked on the door in the correct pattern and a few moments later the door opened. Gimli gave a little bow before stepping to the side for Thorin. It was a little surprising but then Thorin stepped in and saw that the Elf really was awake and perhaps that was the reason for the show of respect. Despite being told the Elf was awake and trying to guess what that would be like, Thorin was rather unprepared for the full weight of blue eyes that had more age than Thorin could ever hope to get. The Elf was leaning against a small stool that had a cushion draped over it. Thorin wondered for a moment where that had come from before remembering the seat that was usually outside the door had been missing. Gimli must have dragged it inside. Thorin supposed it made some sense that the weakened Elf would want to not be laying down though the fact that he apparently needed help to stay upright was a bit disturbing.

Gimli closed the door behind Thorin before clearing his throat awkwardly. "Er, Prince Thorin this is Prince Legolas."

Legolas fixed Thorin with an almost challenging look. Despite him being dressed in only a blanket and bandages and having his hair in an unwashed mess tumbling down his too thin back Thorin didn't have any trouble of seeing him as a haughty regal Prince. One that was feeling particularly superior most likely. That set Thorin's teeth on edge but he did his best to remember the situation. Thorin wasn't about to bow but nodded his head slightly. "Prince Legolas."

"Son of Thráin," Legolas said.

Thorin was a little surprised at the Elf's voice. He almost shivered at how cold his tone was but it was also much stronger and clearer than he would have thought would come from the scrawny prisoner. He couldn't help but wonder how weak Legolas actually was and how much he was exaggerating. Legolas narrowed his eyes ever so slightly as Thorin took a few steps closer. Thorin was going to try to go about this tactfully and diplomatically...

How did one do that exactly? His tongue was failing him. He'd walked all the way here planning out what he was going to say to the Elf and now he was going entirely blank. He almost groaned in frustration.

"Gimli tells me you're trying to get my release," Legolas said before Thorin could actually think of something to say.

Thorin was glad that Legolas had broken the silence and nodded. "Yes, there is a Hidden Door in the lower halls. There should be no guards there to catch us smuggling you out of the mountain," he supplied. "It is the things in your back that are causing problems right now."

Fire flared behind Legolas' blue eyes. "I want them gone. Now."

"I told ya, we don't know what that'd do to ya," Gimli interrupted. "We don't want to hurt ya more trying to help."

"I do not care, they are hideous," Legolas snapped, the icy mask falling enough for Thorin to easily see the rage there. Obviously he was not as aloof as he was trying to show Thorin before. The Prince Under the Mountain cleared his throat. Legolas' attention instantly snapped to Thorin. "Are you going to tell me the same thing?" he demanded.

Thorin ignored the question. "We're making progress. Just deal with it a little longer."

"When you must endure the torture of having yourself ripped away bit by bit for centuries... then you may say things like that, Dwarf. And not a second before," Legolas hissed.

"You'll be in a worse state if my father finds out what we're doing and catches us," Thorin pointed out, his own voice snapping with impatience. "And then you won't even have us trying to help you because we'll be in the dungeons."

Legolas didn't seem particularly moved by that and narrowed his eyes again. "If you let my Father rescue me from this prison you will find yourself wishing to be in dungeons," he said darkly. "I suggest you increase your efforts. I can hear my Father outside this mountain. He will not be kept at bay forever. Rock can only stand so long."

"The mountain won't fall so easy," Thorin said before he could stop himself. He wasn't about to take slights against his home even if they probably should avoid such topics. "We have reinforced the mountain from within. The forges never stop in making more metal to withstand the catapults."

"I should claim all of that as mine," Legolas snapped. "For it is only because of me that you can run your dirty damned forges."

Thorin felt his instant outrage rise up but before he could say anything about it Gimli stepped in between the two Princes. "Now lets not get into an argument like that. What we need to focus on is gettin' ya out of here faster, Legolas."

The Elf looked mutinous but didn't protest more. Thorin wrestled with his temper for a moment. He didn't like the idea of any Elf claiming his people's works as their own, even if this one might have more right to it than he wanted to admit. What use would Legolas have for their struts and braces large enough to keep a mountain standing anyway? Thorin shook his head and turned his attention to more pressing matters. "If you could tell us anything about what this thing attached to you does it might help," he managed to say in what he considered a fair attempt at a nuetral voice.

Of course, judging by Legolas' face he hadn't been as successful as he thought he'd be. "All I know about them is that they are made of silver, twisted like a screw, and covered in strange runes. I was unable to find out more before they were put in me," he said with icy venom.

Thorin couldn't help but wince at the realization that they couldn't just easily pull the things out. They would have to _twist_ the spikes out of the Elf's back. If they didn't it would cause more damage. That would most likely be a painful drawn out process that would make their escape even harder. He had thought that the strange things would be relatively easy to remove and they could hurry out before his father could react. That wouldn't work now. Cutting the chords seemed the better alternative but Thorin had no idea what that would do. After all, if someone were to cut a normal tube filled with something that something would then spill out. Would whatever the things are taking from the Elf spill out if they cut the chords? Was anything even in them save light? He really needed Balin or Ori to find those journals or at least some sort of diagram that would tell him these things. "I'm sorry," Thorin said automatically. The very idea of giant screws being put in his back made Thorin's own ache in sympathy.

"Be sorry later," Legolas said. "After you do what you say and release me from this place."

"If that's what you'd prefer," Thorin replied with a little annoyance. Even when he tried to be nice the Elf ignored it. It figured.

"It is."

Thorin narrowed his eyes before turning. "Then I'll go and see to it," he said as he left the room. He realized he probably shouldn't be so annoyed but he couldn't help it. He'd spent so long holding his own grudges against Elves and now this one inside the mountain, the one he was trying to help, was being everything he hated about Elves.

Gimli watched as Thorin left and sighed a little. He had hoped that would have gone better than it actually had. But, he suppposed, it could have gone much worse too. Legolas' grim prediction of broken bones hadn't come true. "I don't like him," Legolas stated.

"He was actually being very nice," Gimli replied with a bit of a sigh. He couldn't recall ever seeing Thorin so diplomatic before. He'd only slightly annoyed the person he was talking to rather than sending them into a rage. It was a marked improvement. He had a feeling that Thorin had greatly restrained himself even though he had nearly gotten into an argument with Legolas despite things.

"When he does what he promised then perhaps I will like him more," Legolas said before easing himself back down fully. He groaned a bit despite his effort to not do so. 

Gimli was instantly beside him. "Easy! I told you not to move on your own," he scolded as he moved the stool off to the side to give Legolas more room. He had been against the Elf's idea to be sitting up when Thorin came in for this very reason. If you didn't have the strength to stay upright on your own you probably shouldn't be sitting to begin with. But Legolas had been stupidly stubborn. 

Gimli supposed that Legolas hadn't wanted to be in quite as vulnerable position as laying down and he did understand that, but damn it, if that didn't make things frustrating. Legolas finally got situated again and sighed as he tried to relax. Gimli adjusted the mattress and blanket as best he could. "Better?"

Legolas nodded a little. "I suppose he is better than his father," the Elf muttered after several minutes of laying there. "But that is not so hard to be."

"He'll do what he promised, Legolas. He's an honorable Dwarf of his word," Gimli assured him.

There was silence for a moment. Legolas finally turned his head to look at Gimli, who was still hovering. "Before you and your Cousins found me... how would you have described your King?" he asked. "Not so differently, I think."

"But Thorin wasn't a part of it," Gimli argued.

Legolas didn't reply to that. He just closed his eyes and tried to regain what strength he'd spent putting on a stronger front than he'd really felt. Something suddenly occurred to him though and the Elf frowned. "Speaking of your Cousins... they have not been here lately. Where are they?"

"Er... how'd you know they'd been here at all?" Gimli asked. He'd been fairly certain that Legolas had been unconscious all the times Fíli and Kíli had been around.

The Elf fixed Gimli with a dull look. "Do not dodge the question, Dwarf."

"Back to 'Dwarf' are we?" Gimli asked in annoyance.

"When you seek to fool me, yes," Legolas replied.

The redhead sighed in exasperation. "Kíli went and snuck out to try and speak to your father. Fíli probably followed after," Gimli admitted. "Kíli wanted to help you and didn't want to wait for a better plan. We don't know what's happened to him... will your father be vengeful and harm them?" He hadn't really wanted to ask for fear of the answer but it had just burst out before he could stop it.

"That depends..."

"On?"

"How your cousins act," Legolas said. "My father is quite good at holding grudges himself you know. But... if you're right that he is looking to help, he may earn himself some leniency."

Gimli sighed a little. He supposed that really was the best answer he could be given but he'd want something a little more definite. "Thanks for that. Their mother will be glad to hear it." Silence filled the room for a moment. "So how did you know about them?"

"They are loud... particularly the younger one," Legolas answered.

"Why didn't you say they'd woken you?" Gimli asked. "We could have helped you more sooner."

Legolas opened his eyes again to look at Gimli. "Because I don't trust you... but I definitely didn't trust you then. You'd be surprised how much you can learn just by listening." Gimli was a bit taken aback. Just how often had Legolas actually been awake when they thought he was asleep? How much had he learned over the centuries by being kept here? He hadn't often been around people it didn't seem like but obviously he'd found out at least a few things. That then begged the question of why Legolas had revealed himself to be awake when he had. "We wouldn't have ever known you were awake if you didn't pull my knife on me," he realized aloud. He looked down at the Elf, who was studying him carefully through half-lidded eyes. "Why did you do that?"

"I needed your knife," Legolas said. "I thought it worth the risk."

"You needed my knife?" Gimli echoed. He didn't like the sound of that. Had he gotten closer to being knifed than he thought he had? "What did you need it for?"

"To cut these cursed things out of my back," Legolas replied. "And I still will if you cannot find a better solution."

Gimli swallowed a little. How desperate did someone have to be to cut something out of their own back? He didn't think he wanted to know. Nor did he want to let that be the solution Legolas ended up taking. "We will find a better way. I promise."

"You make big promises, Son of Glóin."

"And I keep them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though it could have gone worse.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Heart of the Mountain for you!
> 
> Also, I've made a twitter account purely for my writing. I'll be posting what I'm working on (Fanfiction and original both) and just being there to yell/beg/harass/whatever for updates and such if you wish. Feel free to follow, or not. I can't make you. The account is **BFay_Miller** which is the name I've self published two novels under so far and plan to do more.
> 
> Anyway. Enjoy the chapter.

Sneaking into the Elven base was really rather simple, he thought arrogantly. Up until he looked up and saw a semicircle of arrowheads pointing right at him. "I come in peace?" the golden Prince of Erebor tried with his hands up. He didn't know what possessed him to do this. Other than the unquenchable need to chase after his idiot brother and ensure he was alright. He really should have come up with a better plan. This one was far too much like Kíli for Fíli's liking. But he had been too worried to think up something better. The Elves ringing Fíli in looked entirely unmoved and Fíli felt his heart drop. Perhaps distance from his twit brother was actually a good thing... because then he didn't think he'd make such Kíli-esque gaffs...

Thranduil sat in his smaller but no less grand throne-like chair that he kept in his room. In his hand was a goblet of wine and standing in front of him was the captured Dwarven Prince. Tauriel had fetched him and was still standing there keeping a close eye on the young Dwarf. Thranduil had consented to wait until his immediate instinct wasn't to slice the creature's head off to question him. But he couldn't wait any longer. Mithrandir was sitting nearby puffing away with his pipe but thankfully silent. Thranduil didn't think he could take the wizard's meddling or obtuseness right then. He needed to know about his son, and he wouldn't be dissuaded any longer. "Explain to me what your King is doing to my son," he said, fixing Kíli with a narrow glare.

Kíli swallowed hard and glanced at Gandalf. The wizard said nothing and just puffed on his pipe some more. He had already told Kíli what was not to be told and there was little more that he could do currently. Kíli cleared his voice and straightened. He wanted every meager inch to add to his height. "He... He's been locked away, and I'm sorry to say neglected. But now that we know he's there we've done what we can to correct that," he said as calmly as possible despite his desire to rush through it. "We brought a healer in to look at him... says he's in a healing trance to keep himself alive. But he'd just woken as I was leaving." He only knew that from the message that his Uncle had sent with the Hobbit.

Kíli wasn't sure how Gandalf had come across that information, but he was glad to give it. Especially considering the dark look that overcame Thranduil's face at the word 'neglected'. 

Thranduil got to his feet and stepped closer, putting his wine down as he did so. "Neglected how, Dwarf?"

Kíli shifted his weight to be slightly further away. "He..." He really couldn't hide it. If Thranduil saw his son, it would be obvious. It would take some time to rebuild so much body mass. With that in mind, Kíli pushed forward, "He was not fed regularly from what we can tell."

"What?"

Kíli winced a little and looked up at Tauriel who was the one who'd said that in such a horrified voice. Thranduil hadn't said anything, his face had said plenty. "We've been feeding him since we found him, though!" he added quickly to ease both of their reactions. "I told you, we're trying to help!"

"You have been starving my son..."

"Not us!" Kíli insisted. He knew he was fighting an uphill battle convincing them to not see all Dwarves the same but he just _had_ to make them see. He needed to make them understand that this wasn't something that his family condoned. That is was madness they wanted to stop. "We've brought him everything we can to get him healthy! I swear!"

Thranduil's eyes blazed, and for a brief moment, Kíli swore he saw something dark and twisted take over the Elf's flawless face. But then it was gone when Gandalf cleared his throat. "I think it best if we try to keep our tempers," he said with false neutrality.

The ancient Elf whipped around instantly to face the wizard, who was still sitting there looking perfectly serene as a contrast to the panic of the captured Dwarven prince and the fury of the Elves. Thranduil looked ready to start verbally (or perhaps physically) lashing the grey-cloaked old man, but Gandalf stood up. "We should be careful to only lay blame with those who deserve it and not those who are trying only to help."

"I have yet to see any 'help'," Thranduil said icily. "They only make claims with little proof."

"Why would I lie?" Kíli demanded.

"Because you are captured and are looking to save your own skin," Tauriel supplied.

Kíli sent her a slight glare. "If I were trying to do that, I would think of something better for a lie." Telling them unpleasant news wasn't exactly the way to earn his life back. "I'd be telling you he was safe and perfectly healthy and well looked after. Not the truth."

"It is debatable that you're telling the truth," Thranduil replied instantly. Although, Kíli was glad to hear that it didn't hold as much ire as it could possibly hold.

"I wouldn't lie to make it sound worse," Kíli pointed out. "Getting you more angry at me isn't going to help my situation. The best I can do is promise you that we'll be doing our very best to help you and him."

"I think it would be best to believe him, Elf King," Gandalf said, leaning forward in his seat and using his staff to prop himself up.

Thranduil glanced over at the wizard. "And why is that?"

"Because, my contact within the mountain collaborates his story," Gandalf shared as he pulled a thick envelope from the folds of his robe. "And he has very little reason to lie since he is no Dwarf."

Kíli didn't see Thranduil make any signal, but he must have because Tauriel stepped forward to take the parchment and then give it to her King. The Elf seemed very wary as he unfolded the paper. He gave Gandalf one last measuring look before turning his eyes down to the letter. Kíli wasn't sure what was written on the parchment, but he wasn't willing to bet it would be anything _good._ That wasn't the way his luck was going lately.

After a few moments, Thranduil tossed the letter somewhat angrily to his desk and stalked back to where he'd left his wine. Nobody asked anything for several minutes. It seemed best to let the King gather his control before testing it. "As you can see, The Crowned Prince himself is giving his help," Gandalf said. "Civil unrest is growing within the royal family. With their help getting your son back will be much easier."

Prince Kíli felt a bit of joy finally start to build. He _knew_ it. He'd told Fíli that their Uncle couldn't have known about this! Oh, he was going to rub this in his brother's face when he next saw him. He sobered a little at that when he realized there was still no guarantee that he _would_ be seeing his brother again. Still, he was so incredibly glad that his Uncle hadn't known about this horrible thing. He still allowed himself to feel vindicated, even if he never got a chance to tell his brother 'I told you so'. 

There were another few moments of silence as Thranduil sipped at his wine and seemingly seethed over something. Kíli tried to not wince. What exactly had his Uncle written? It didn't seem to have gone over so well. But then, it was probably hard to get anything to go over well when Thranduil was in the state he was currently. Kíli couldn't help but wonder how the Elf King would be when his son wasn't being held prisoner.

"My Lord?"

Kíli thought that Tauriel was quite brave to draw attention to herself when the King looked so displeased. Thranduil turned and let his eyes slide down to Kíli again. "If you betray us again... No dwarf will leave that mountain alive," he said firmly.

There was a tense, awkward silence and Kíli swallowed hard. "I believe you..."

"You should," Thranduil said as he moved closer until he was standing just before the young dwarf and towering over him menacingly. "Because I will save your family for last."

Kíli's eyes widened at that. But before he could say anything or even think of anything remotely sensible to say in response to that, there was a knock at the door. "Come in," Thranduil said, without looking away from Kíli.

The door opened, and two Elves came in. Between the two of them, Kíli instantly recognized the shorter figure despite him being devoid of his usual arsenal of pointing weapons. "Fíli!"

"Kee! You're alive! You idiot! I was worried!"

"I'm fine, Fee! What are you doing here?"

"I came after you!" Fíli said as if it were obvious. "Do you know how worried you made mother? And uncle?"

"I couldn't just sit there!"

"Enough!" Thranduil snapped before Fíli could get out his next retort. There was a tense silence as Thranduil stepped closer to Fíli. "I take it you are the second Prince?"

Fíli resisted the urge, somehow, to back up a step and instead nodded. "Fíli son of Víli. I was worried for my brother."

Thranduil studied them both before turning and walking several steps away. "Take them back to the quarters. They can share them," he told the guards. The Elves instantly bowed and ushered the two Dwarves out. Thranduil pretended as if he couldn't hear the two of them start to bicker again almost the instant they were outside. He waited until he could no longer hear the two of them before reaching for his wine again.

"This is yet more good news, Thranduil," Gandalf commented.

The Elf King didn't even bother glaring this time and just brought his cup to his lips. He was too preoccupied to pay much attention to the wizard at the moment. He reached into the sleeve of his robe with his free hand and found the silky rope tied around his wrist. The King absently stroked the braided length of it with his fingers as he tried very hard to not imagine his son tossed away and ignored for three centuries.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I realized, we really hadn't seen Thrain at all... horrible oversight. Have some crazed Thrain as an apology. Hmm, not a very good apology is it?

King Thráin, son of Thrór, sat amid his father’s (and now his own) treasure hoard. Mountains of gold wrought into coins and cups and ceremonial armor. Beautiful gems in a rainbow of colors were loose amid the rivers of gold or set with exquisite skill and care into various objects. The King was currently examining his goblet with eyes that reflected the golden sheen of the cup. It was large and highly polished. Etched with runes in pleasing designs and decorated with identically sized rubies the exact same color as the wine within the cup. He didn’t often drink wine, but he didn’t mind the change in pace. Besides, there was something about the food and wine that was grown under the light of the Eldar Lamps that just tasted so much better than that grown outside of it. The fruit was always sweeter and the vegetables crisper. 

His lips curled up into a smile before he took a long drink of the rich wine in front of him and then went back to the rest of his work. He sat back in his golden throne that had carved obsidian ravens perched upon the back and golden rams as arm rests. In front of Thráin was a ledger full of numbers reported from each of the forges and workshops of the mountain. 

His father had set a relentless pace of productivity and Thráin was prone to keeping that pace going. They had mined out miles of gold and tons of jewels, filling massive vault after massive vault. In the place of these precious metals and gems, they formed the chambers to grow their food. It wouldn’t do to waste space after all. Thráin picked a deep red apple from his plate and studied it carefully. It was free of any bruises and larger than his own closed fist. A perfect specimen of the fruit. Apples were some of his favorites. They just had a certain satisfying sound when you bit into them. And finally, the orchards of Erebor were producing the fruit in acceptable numbers. It had taken precious decades to get such productivity out of the growing chambers as they got out of the forges.

He imagined it would have gone much faster if they’d had some more _cooperation_. He sneered a little at the thought and then bit into the firm flesh of the apple. It crunched satisfyingly as his teeth tore through the flesh and sweet juices instantly erupted from the wound. Thráin paid little attention to the juices dripping down his beard as he put the apple back on his golden plate. The King smiled a little again; the juices really were so sweet and refreshing. He still remembered the taste of fruits grown outside of their mountain. They paled in comparison really.

Thráin heard someone approaching and looked up to see Rugnar weaving through the towers of golden coins and piles of gem-encrusted trinkets. “Ah, Master Rugnar! Welcome. How is your progress?” Thráin asked waving for the old man to take a seat on a nearby gold leafed chair.

“Well, your Highness,” Rugnar replied as he limped forward and then slowly lowered himself quite stiffly into the chair he’d been offered. “I think I found a way to remake the glass of the lamps. It might even be more efficient. Though it will be a bit more expensive.”

Thráin hummed a bit in thought and reached for his goblet again. “Any other differences?”

“Just due to the size of the new lamp,” Rugnar answered. “It will draw more power than any of the others. I’ll need to implant several more cables.”

The King waved his hand. “I don’t care about that. Riddle it full of holes for all I care,” Thráin replied. “He killed my son. He deserves every inch of silver-steel you drive into him.”

If Rugnar was surprised by this, he certainly didn’t show it. He just nodded his head in understanding. “As you say, your Majesty. But I am bringing it up because I am running out of places on his back. And that is really the best place to use. We don’t want to kill him from blood loss if I hit something too vital.”

Thráin scowled and swirled the wine in his cup. “I have every confidence you’ll find a way to make it work, Rugnar. We need these lamps.”

There was a long silence between the two aging Dwarves. Finally, Rugnar pulled out a parchment and slid it forward on the table between them. “I will need to redesign the extractors… but I believe I can. And this should give me enough power,” he explained.

Thráin picked up the parchment with his free hand and examined the sketch of the too long back covered in small Xs. He hummed a little again in thought as he took another drink of wine. The location of some of the Xs was marking where the back was already pierced. The new marks, however, were in a neat straight line directly down the center of the drawing. “He will live through this?” Thráin asked without looking up.

“Like I said, I will have to redesign the extractors, but I believe if I can that he will,” Rugnar explained. 

The Kings eyes glimmered sickly under the light of fires reflecting off gold. He put his seal on the plan to approve it and handed it back to the older Dwarf. He truly hoped the Elf would be awake this time. He hadn’t been the last time they’d added cords and Thráin had been disappointed to have gotten no reaction from it. Even muffled behind the gag as the screams inevitably were, the noises eased the King’s own pain and hatred. If only for a few days.

“And the progress of the stone?” Thráin asked before taking another sip of his wine. “I have not had many updates on that.”

“I believe it is turning out quite well. According to the writings I’ve read, soon enough it will have taken enough light from the Elf to be nearly on par with the light of the Silmarils,” Rugnar said. “Even the mightiest of Elves will be forced to acknowledge our place and power if we have a Silmaril.”

Thráin nodded and took another sip of so very pleasant and rich wine. He didn’t much care about the other races of the world like Rugnar and Thrór had. But Rugnar wanted his position as the greatest Dwarven craftsman solidified and what better way than by creating something like that? So, Thráin allowed the original plan between him and Thrór to stand. As long as it didn’t interfere with his plans, which it definitely didn’t, he didn’t care. He was more interested in another factor of the stone rather than how their reputation would grow. “Should the Elf die… would the Arkenstone be able to hold the mountain strong?”

Rugnar frowned, not particularly liking the question. It had taken all of his life to get the jewel to the point it was now. Nearly brighter than the Elf it was being drawn from. “Perhaps. But we would not be able to keep pace with how we have now. There is simply no way to run as many cables from the Arkenstone as we can from the Elf.”

Thráin grunted, a little disappointed. Though he enjoyed knowing that the party responsible for his youngest’s death was suffering, he also wanted to pay the Elf back in full. He was still _alive_ and possibly plotting. Elves were always plotting after all. No, he would be much more at ease if the Elf were to be finished off. Then he could get rid of it, and the Elves outside would finally go _away_. The constant assault was giving him a headache. 

The King almost smiled at the thought of returning the Princeling’s corpse to his Father. Then the haughty Thranduil would _really_ know the pain of losing a son. The very idea that Thranduil could compare Thráin’s pain of losing Frerin to his own paltry feelings of his son being held within in the mountain was absurd. Thranduil would _never_ understand until he too had to bury a son. But, Thráin couldn’t make him understand until he was sure that they could survive without the Prince.

“Is there anything else, Rugnar?” Thráin asked.

“I don’t believe so, Sire.”

The King nodded and dismissed the craftsman with a wave of his many-ringed hand. Rugnar gave a creaky bow before gathering his papers and leaving the King to admire his spoils. Thráin put his booted feet up on a gilded chest full of yet more coins and plucked a plump dark berry from the bowl beside him. It was just as sweet and juicy as the apple was although with a slightly different flavor.

He was still there relaxing many hours later and on yet another fresh cup of wine when Thorin found him. Though The Crowned Prince of Erebor knew, in the back of his mind, that there was something wrong with his father to condone keeping Legolas locked away as a prisoner, he couldn’t help but want to at least try to reason with him. There had to be some way to reach him. There just had to be. He knew that his Grandfather had been obsessed with Gold near the end of his life, but he’d had moments of clarity from time to time. Moments that Thorin did his best to remember over the many hours he would spend in the exact same spot that he now found Thráin in.

“Ah, Thorin! What a surprise! You haven’t come see me at work in ages!”

Thorin bit back his retort that his father was hardly working but rather reveling. Such an observation wouldn’t help matters he didn’t think. “I needed to talk with you, Father.”

“Oh? Something has happened with the tunnel?” Thráin guessed. His son had been so very excited to put his plan to flank the elves into motion. 

“No, Father,” Thorin said awkwardly. He’d thought hard about how he would approach this (with Balin shooting down his less practical ideas). He’d decided (i.e. Balin decided) that blurting his knowledge of the captive Elf was an obviously bad idea. So instead he’d tackle something different. “I was just thinking… When is the last time we tried to come to terms with the Elves?”

Thráin’s pleasant smile dropped to a scowl instantly. “Why?”

Thorin held his hands up in defense. “Just to know. I don’t recall ever hearing of negotiations going on. It will take some time to get through so much earth. I was thinking of perhaps a way to distract them.”

Thráin hummed as he thought and swirled his wine. “The last time anyone tried to negotiate with those damned sprites was just after your brother died. I offered them a deal. They refused it,” he explained. It had been a rather good deal too. All Thráin had wanted was recompense for his son’s death. But no. Thranduil wouldn’t agree to such simple terms; instead, going on and on about his own son. As if that had any bearing on Thráin’s grief.

Before all of this, Thorin would have been outraged that the Elves would turn down a deal after causing their family such pain. It was a little harder to get to outrage though when he now knew that it wasn’t as if Thranduil was acting purely from his own avarice. “Did they say why they refused?”

The King waved his hand. “It doesn’t matter why they refused. They did. I doubt any distraction from negotiations will last that long with how our noble neighbors act. Now, was there anything else?”

Thorin wanted to press further. Wanted to get his father to admit to keeping such an important captive and prolonging this war. He wanted to know why his father never _told him_ about this. But he knew a dismissal when he heard one, and he didn’t think his father would take kindly to Thorin knowing about Legolas before he himself had mentioned it. So, with reservations, Thorin bowed to his King and turned to leave the overflowing vault and the tyrant who wore the mask of his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you followed me on twitter you'd know I was working on a darker chapter of this story (end of not so subtle plug).


	36. Chapter 36

Fíli spent about an hour and a half just scolding his brother for being so reckless as to come out here without telling anyone about it, or just coming out of the mountain at all. Not that Kíli was all that repentant about it. He seemed to be very sure of what he’d done despite the incalculable risk to his own health and safety. In fact, he seemed kind of proud, which drove Fíli up the wall. “You’re not going to convince me what I did was wrong,” Kíli said with his arms folded over his chest.

The golden-haired Prince could only sigh in frustration and give his brother a nudge with his shoulder. He was perhaps sitting a bit too close to Kíli, but he didn’t care. He had honestly been afraid that he would find his brother executed when he got out here. “You know, you’re not doing anything to convince Uncle and Mother that you aren’t reckless.”

“I’m not reckless.”

“Yes, you are,” Fíli replied instantly. He glanced at Tauriel’s back. She had decided she would be the one to guard the brothers for some reason. Fíli sighed and lowered his head closer to Kíli’s, “But you did a good thing, Kee. Just try not to panic us like that again?”

Kíli grinned and gently bumped his forehead against his brother’s. “No promises.”

“Brat. Why did I ever say I wanted a brother?”

“Because you’re wise beyond your years.”

“More like I need to be careful what I wish for…”

“You were quite reckless yourself,” a quiet voice said from the front of the room. The brothers looked over at Tauriel instantly, but she was only just glancing over her shoulder at them. “You are lucky it has been dark these last few nights, and you were able to get so close before being spotted.”

Fíli shifted a little on the bed, uneasy that his words had been overheard. He knew that Elves had good hearing, but he hadn’t thought it was _that_ good. “I couldn’t just leave my brother out here alone,” he said a little more defensively than he had intended. He knew that there wasn’t really anything to stop the Elves from killing them except the possibility of getting their own Prince back. And if they were trusted or not depended solely on the decisions of a grief-stricken parent. He didn’t love their chances to be entirely honest.

Tauriel turned slightly further to study them. After a moment she nodded. “I understand that. And perhaps the Valar are behind you… for the storm that has been brewing for the last several days has certainly been a boon to you.” The intensely dark cloud cover had blocked what light the moon could provide quite well.

“Well, that’s comforting. Mind mentioning that to your King?” Kíli asked with a half smile.

“My King Thranduil will come to his own decisions in his own time,” Tauriel said. “As he always has.”

“It’s got to be good that he hasn’t killed us yet, though, isn’t it?”

Fíli gave his brother a half-hearted glare. “I would feel better if he’d said for certain if we’d die or not for coming out here.”

“He sounded like he was coming around a bit,” Kíli supplied. Well, threatening to kill Kíli’s family last was still not too promising, but it did sound like the King was at least considering what they were saying. Kíli wasn’t sure if that was the King just being desperate, or wise, or if the Wizard had something to do with it, or if he was just completely off and thinking wishfully.

“That would be nice…” Fíli didn’t bother telling him that it didn’t sound particularly likely.

“He said he’d kill us all if we ‘betrayed’ him again.”

“Oh. Well… I guess that makes sense.”

Betrayal did imply some sort of trust. “He is desperate,” Tauriel supplied softly. “We all are… we had already thought it possible our Prince was dead.”

“W-why would you think that?” Kíli asked. “We wouldn’t have killed him and said nothing.”

“We had no reason to believe that.” Tauriel turned around completely to face the brothers. “We have not seen hide nor hair of him until that letter containing the lock you sent. That is all we have seen of him for three hundred years. Why would we think him alive and hale with no proof?”

Fíli winced a little. “Good point, I suppose… But we’re not so cruel.”

Tauriel tilted her head a little to the side. “Just keeping an Elf from the open air could have been enough. Truly, it is amazing to me that Prince Legolas has managed to hold on so long. Amazing but still gladness beyond words.”

“We’re glad as well,” Kíli told her.

The fairer Prince glanced between his brother and the Elf uneasily for a moment. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the way Kíli was looking at their guard. As if she were literally walking on water or something. He leaned in closer. “What is with that look?” Fíli all but hissed.

“What look?”

“That dopey look on your face! She probably wants to kill you, you know.”

Kíli didn’t seem to fully register what his brother had said. “She’s pretty isn’t she? I mean… despite no beard and all…”

Fíli just stared for a minute. “Kee… Uncle would _end_ you.”

“I’m just saying!”

Tauriel, who had turned to face front again by this time, did her utmost to pretend as if she _hadn’t_ just heard that little snippet of brotherly bickering. Clearly, they thought they had been quiet enough, but they were still underestimating an Elf’s hearing. “You two should probably get some rest,” she called over her shoulder. She didn’t dare turn around to face them until she was absolutely certain her face wouldn’t reveal anything. “My King Thranduil will most likely be by in the morning to tell you what he demands.”

“Demands?”

Tauriel turned to send the blonde Prince a slight glare. “We are still well within our rights if we kill you.”

“…point taken…”

With that -rather unpleasant- reminder of their situation, the two Princes did their best to get some sort of rest. Because it was relatively late, and -if Tauriel were right- that the King would be coming to see them in the morning, they would most definitely need to be well rested to deal with him. It wasn’t as if they had a whole lot of practice dealing with foreign rulers or anything of that nature. Though, they quickly found that it wasn’t so simple to get sleep.

They were in an actual building with wooden walls, but it was still thin enough in construction that the brothers didn’t have much trouble hearing singing from outside. The Elven voices weren’t terribly intrusive usually, but they rose up higher with some amount of regularity, and it wasn’t at all what the Princes were used to. The heavy stone of the mountain kept sounds within the rooms they came from more often than not.

After what felt like hours of lying there just listening to songs he couldn’t understand, Kíli sat up in bed. He wasn’t sure if Fíli had managed to fall asleep yet or not, but he didn’t really care either. He was still awake, so he felt the need to do something. “What are they singing about?” Kíli asked Tauriel. She was still there at the doorway though in a less stiff posture.

“Tis the Lament of Erebor,” Tauriel supplied.

“Of Erebor?” Kíli echoed.

Tauriel glanced over at him. “It’s not very complimentary.”

He couldn’t quite help but to cringe. “I can imagine…”

“It is also quite long,” Tauriel added. “We’ve had much time to write extra verses to it.”

“I think I’ll pass on the translation if that’s alright.”

“Mm, it doesn’t have the same ring to it when translated anyway,” she said, a small smile creasing her lips. “Why aren’t you sleeping, Master Dwarf?”

Kíli shrugged. “I guess I’m not used to hearing noises. In our area of the mountain, it’s usually pretty quiet.”

“I see.” Tauriel glanced out at the mountain. “I must admit, I find sleeping in silence to be equally strange.”

“Well, it’s not completely silent,” Kíli said. “There are the catapults… Sort of get able to ignore that, though, once you get to a certain age. Just becomes background noise to everyday life. Though, once and a while, a big one wakes me up still.”

Tauriel raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to make me apologize?”

Kíli shook his head. “Nah. I know now why you’re doing it.”

The auburn-haired Elf couldn’t help but be surprised. “That’s very understanding of you.” She wouldn’t have ever thought that she’d hear such a thing from any Dwarf.

“Well, I understand. You’re close to the Prince, right? I can sort of tell…”

“We… it is rare to grow up with other Elfings your own age. Legolas and I, however, were only a few decades apart,” she explained.

Kíli nodded. “If someone took my brother from me… I’d probably do a lot worse than just laying siege to a mountain.” 

“It isn’t like we haven’t been trying to do worse,” Tauriel pointed out. “But we cannot seem to break the mountain apart. It is most frustrating.”

“Ah, that’s because we’ve reinforced the mountain,” Kíli supplied despite the inner Thorin in his mind screaming at him. Even though he knew he probably shouldn’t be saying things like that, what could she really do from out here anyway? “Metal struts and supports and even posts to keep the rock in place. We still lose some, 'course, but the inside’s safer. Like a tent of rock and metal.”

She raised an eyebrow again at the comparison. “I see.”

They lapsed into silence for a while and just listened to the Elven singing from the campfires. “Can I ask you something?” Tauriel looked back over at the Dwarf, rather surprised by the question. She gestured for him to continue. “How… vengeful is your Prince?”

“Well, normally, I would say that King Thranduil would be the more vengeful, but this is an extreme circumstance,” Tauriel said, resting her head on the doorjamb. “I honestly do not know how this will have changed Legolas…”

With that rather unpleasant thought, Kíli decided to try and get back to sleep. It felt too awkward to continue speaking about it. He had no idea what to say or do at this point. All he could really do was hope that it all somehow worked out. Because if it didn’t, he didn’t doubt that Thranduil would follow through with that threat he had made those hours earlier.

It wasn’t the most restful sleep that Kíli had ever had. In fact, it might just be one of the worst nights sleep that he could remember. The anticipation hadn’t been too bad when he was awake (or perhaps he was just very good at ignoring it) but was far worse when he was asleep, and his imagination had full reign to come up with the worst possible scenarios. What, exactly, would a vengeful King decide? Kíli had no idea.

When he woke up the next morning, it was to the smell of warm bread and the sound of gently clinking cutlery. Kíli sat up and blinked to try and clear the fog from both his brain and his eyes. When he woke up enough to see what was going on, his eyes widened. Sitting at the small table in the room was none other than the Elfking himself, looking quite calm and put together with a silver circlet on his head and a crystal goblet in his hand. In front of him, on the table, was a full spread of food. The aforementioned bread was between honey and butter, pastries of various sorts with flaky crusts were towered high, perfectly ripe fruits were piled up on silver platters, jugs of milk and water and juice were to one side, and even what looked to be warmed cereal was put out. Despite the distinct lack of meat, it was a veritable feast, and Kíli wasn’t sure how to take such a sight. Fíli was sitting there looking just as awkward as Kíli felt. 

“You’re awake,” Thranduil observed. “Come, sit. Have something to eat,” he said with a not-quite-neutral tone.

Kíli hesitated. Though he hadn’t been starved here, he certainly hadn’t shared a meal with the King either. “Trust me, Prince Kíli. You most definitely do not want to reject this meal,” Thranduil said, twirling his goblet in his long-fingered hand.

“It’s not poisoned is it?” Kíli asked before he could help himself.

Thranduil smiled. It was not a particularly kind smile. “If I were going to kill you, Prince, I would not decide on poison to do it.”

“Reassuring…” Fíli muttered.

Thranduil gestured to the table with the hand not holding his drink but otherwise just waited. It ended up taking the Princes several moments to work up the courage to join Thranduil and start eating. It was a silent, somewhat uncomfortable meal, but Thranduil didn’t appear to notice. He just sat there and occasionally nibbled on a seed cake or a piece of fruit while the Dwarves worked through their own food.

After what felt like hours of slowly eating, the brothers finished. “Are you sure you’re finished?” Thranduil asked. When both Fíli and Kíli nodded the Elfking made a gesture, and several elves came in to clear the table, leaving just the pitcher of water. “Splendid. Then we can get down to business. I have decided what you can do to earn my trust that you are sincere.”

“And what might that be?” Fíli asked.

“I have heard nothing from my son. You, Prince Fíli, will return to the mountain and have my son write me a letter. In his own hand and dated. I care not how long it is or how long it take you to get it to me. But it must be in his hand. I will know if it is forged, believe me.”

“Of course, fine. That won’t be a problem,” Fíli agreed.

Thranduil slowly got to his feet. “And until the moment that you return with that letter… your brother shall remain here. And that meal will be the last he will have,” he said firmly.

Fíli instantly jumped to his feet in outrage. “You can’t starve my brother!”

“Your people starved my son for _three hundred years_ ,” Thranduil hissed. His eyes were flashing dangerously in his anger. “Surely a young, healthy dwarf-lord can skip a few meals as well. For, really, how long do you think it will take you to get a letter? I trust not long. If he suffers beyond that… it is your own fault.”

The blonde Dwarf was still not about to agree to his brother’s mistreatment. He opened his mouth to protest again when Kíli caught his arm. “Fee, it’s fine. He’s right. What’ll it take? A day? Two? I’ll be fine for that long.” When compared to how long Legolas had gone without a couple days was really just a drop in the bucket.

“Go back to your mountain, Dwarf. I suggest you hurry,” Thranduil said before turning and leaving the small hut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget you can follow on twitter ( **@BFay_Miller** ) so you'll know when I'm working on a chapter of what story! Also, you'd have known Thranduil was in the chapter and being his usual _not at all_ vindictive self. ;P


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This actually was not what I planned for this chapter... It was going to have Leggy and Gimli yes, but it wasn't supposed to be in the dream land... oh well. *shifts that other scene further down the line*

“So, back again?” 

Gimli blinked in surprise as he was suddenly in the clearing with the spring again. Usually, he appeared further in the forest and had to find his way here, but this time he’d simply arrived right in the middle of it. He looked around in surprise and saw Legolas on the lounge staring up at the sky. The Elf didn’t even look over but still kept his eyes fixed on the twilight sky above him. 

The spring seemed louder than before, or perhaps the forest was just quieter. Gimli looked over and saw that, yes, this time he was sure that there were definitely more crystals in the stream than the first time he’d been here. There were even some jutting out from the ground beside the river now. “You know, I really do wonder why my enchantment keeps bringing you here while I rest,” Legolas mused aloud.

“Couldn’t say,” Gimli replied as he crossed the grass to where the chaise was positioned with the Elven Prince lying upon it. “Are you alright?” he asked warily. Legolas seemed rather… melancholic. Not that he didn’t have a right to be, but still, it was a little concerning.

Legolas sighed a bit and closed his eyes. “I am tired,” he admitted with a sigh. “These enchantments… they are poor replacements for the real wilds and actual stars…” He opened his eyes again to look up. “I long to escape this…”

Gimli wasn’t sure exactly why hearing that alarmed him so much, but it did. He reached over and took hold of the Elf’s arm. “You just have to hold on a bit longer. I promise,” he said. Legolas slowly moved his eyes to look at the Dwarf beside him. “We’re going to get you out of the mountain and then you can see your stars again. And be in your woods far away from stone rooms and manacles.”

Blue eyes shimmered for a moment before Legolas closed them again. “I know you seek that… and that my father is just outside waiting for me… but still, it is hard. Staying here where all I feel is the pain. To feel parts of who you are being shredded and drained away… I do not know how much longer I can resist the urge…”

“The urge to… what?”

Legolas was quiet for several minutes. So long, in fact, that Gimli wasn’t even sure that he would get a response. “… to leave this body behind.”

That sounded incredibly ominous. “You can… leave your body?”

“If the pain is great enough… If we grow too tired and worn,” Legolas said softly. “But… we can never return to it.”

“So you’d die,” Gimli finished. Legolas sighed but nodded. “Well, you can’t do that,” he said instantly. “We’re so close to getting you free. Just trust us a little while longer. We can get you home, Legolas.”

The Elf closed his eyes again. “My trust… is even more worn than my body, Son of Glóin.”

“I know,” Gimli said as he took Legolas’ hand in his. “And I’m sorry for that. I truly am.” When the Elf didn’t respond right away, Gimli gave him a slight nudge. “Legolas. Come on, Lad, last time I was here you were all spitfire. Surely you can muster that again? Or how about telling me more about how you learned this enchantment from your father? Sounds like a good tale,” Gimli tried somewhat desperately. He had to keep Legolas from succumbing to his own despair somehow and getting him to talk here was really all that Gimli could come up with.

“… there’s really not much to tell,” Legolas finally murmured.

“I’d still like to hear it.”

Legolas sighed and opened his eyes halfway. “Every decade or so my father would have to go into the forest and check to ensure his enchantments were still in place. I would go with him when I was younger… there was this one that I remember quite well. It’s put on a river in our woods.”

“On a river?”

Legolas nodded. “Most enchantments need some sort of physical anchor… In the Greenwood, that river’s water cannot be touched without falling into a deep slumber. Drinking from it is even worse. You would most likely never wake up if you were to do that. But the dreams you have when under the enchantment are usually very pleasant. I thought if I could somehow use it on myself it would be the best form of escape I could muster. Most of the other enchantments upon our home would not be so useful in this situation.”

Gimli let that settle into his brain for a minute. The fact that there was a river somewhere that could put you to sleep permanently was a little frightening to be truthful. It wasn’t really a noble heroic was to go. He was glad he’d never run across it. “So, if all enchantments need an anchor… what did you use?” He tried to not sound awkward as he asked it, but he wasn’t sure how well he succeeded.

There were a few minutes of silence between them as Legolas considered whether or not to say. “I, myself, am the anchor,” the Elf Prince finally said. “It was the only thing I could reach and therefore use.”

“Is that safe?”

Legolas shrugged. “Perhaps not as safe as casting the enchantment on something else, but I had little choice in the matter. I needed… _something_.”

It still seemed far too dangerous, but then again Gimli couldn’t exactly blame the Elf for his mental escape where a true one wasn’t yet granted to him. “So, do you somehow control when you’ll have these dreams?”

“Yes. Although I still don’t know why you are showing up… I certainly don’t intend to bring you along.”

“Perhaps it's because I’m taking care of you?” Gimli suggested. “You said the river in your lands… if you touched the water, it would be enough to fall under the enchantment? Well, what if it’s working the same way here? I have been tending your wounds and such.”

“Mm, I suppose it’s possible,” Legolas said noncommittally as he turned his eyes back up to the royal purple sky. Gimli looked up as well and saw a few twinkling stars beginning to appear. “I would expect you to fall asleep immediately, though. Truly, I would have to ask my father.”

“Well, you’ll be able to shortly,” Gimli said with as much cheer and confidence as he could muster.

Legolas looked over at the Dwarf again. “So strange… having you trying to cheer me up.”

“Why’s it strange?”

“Because it’s almost working,” Legolas replied with just a faint impression of a smile. “You’re a very good distraction, Master Dwarf.”

Gimli couldn’t help the wide grin that split his face as he gave a bow. “At your service, Master Elf. I’m glad I could help, even a little bit.” Legolas gave a slight inclination of his head before turning back to stare up at the sky. The two of them lapsed into silence again, but this time it was not as uncomfortable as it had been before. 

The Dwarf glanced around the clearing again. Other than the added number of crystals and the strange silence of the forest beyond the clearing, very little seemed to have changed. It was still beautiful, in an impossible way. The light from the sunset had cast most of the flowers under a different light turning the whites to pale oranges and the other colors darker. There wasn’t much breeze today in the clearing, but there didn’t really need to be one either as it always seemed to be the perfect temperature here. 

He was just about to ask Legolas about why the clearing was appearing at a different time of day than before when suddenly he was yanked straight out of the dream. Gimli flailed a little and struggled to figure out what had happened. It took several minutes for him to wake up enough to recognize his father standing beside his bed. “Wha-dad?”

“You have to get up son,” Glóin said. “Fíli’s returned.”

Gimli’s eyes widened, and he flung himself out of bed. It was hard to believe that one of his cousins would return without the other. He hoped it wasn’t a bad sign. Mahal help them all if Fíli returned alone because he had to…


	38. Chapter 38

"Mum, I'm fine," Fíli was saying as Gimli and Glóin rushed into Thorin's suite in the royal section. "Really. The Elves didn't touch me."

"And Kíli?" Thorin asked urgently even as Dís wrapped Fíli in her arms. She looked to be about to burst into tears but was managing to restrain herself.

"He's fine too," Fíli assured his Uncle. "But they're keeping Fee as collateral. I'm supposed to prove our intentions by bringing Thranduil a letter written by his son and dated. We need to get Legolas to write something, so I can deliver it back. Thranduil didn't care how long it was just so long as Legolas wrote it."

Gimli was a little concerned about how urgently Fíli said that. "Legolas is asleep again," he informed. 

That statement got several sets of eyes on him and he was uncomfortable to see Fíli almost looking panicked. "What? Well, wake him up!"

"Fíli, you know what that magic sleep thing of his is like. I don't think we _can_ wake him up," Gimli said. "But, it shouldn't take too long. He's been waking up fairly regular since we've been fixing him up." The wide-eyed look on Fíli's face worried Gimli immensely. He hadn't seen his cousin look this frantic in... well ever really.

Thorin also seemed to notice Fíli's unusual worry. "Fíli. What is it?"

The golden Prince of Erebor shifted his weight uneasily between his feet. Thorin repeated the question a little more firmly. "I think Kee might have... overshared a little," Fíli said. "Thranduil said that until I come back, he won't be feeding Kíli again... since we haven't fed Legolas in three hundred years."

Thorin cursed darkly as Dís took a sharp inhale of horror. "Gimli, go and wake the Elf if you can," Thorin ordered.

"It's not my shift," Gimli pointed out.

"I'll make it your shift, Lad. Let's go," Dwalin said jerking his head to the side. Gimli nodded and followed behind Dwalin. Hopefully Legolas wouldn't sleep through Gimli's attempts to wake him.

As the two guards left, Thorin turned back to his nephew. "What else has Thranduil said?"

"That he doesn't trust us," Fíli supplied, holding his mother's hand comfortingly. "And if we betray him again he'll kill our family last."

"Yes, well, if you do betray him it will be what you lot deserve," a very disapproving voice said from one corner. Everyone quickly turned and saw the Hobbit standing there with his hands in his pockets. "Quite the mess really but I managed to speak with Gandalf. He'll be keeping Thranduil from doing anything too rash."

"Not feeding my son is 'not too rash' in your opinion?" Dís asked.

Bilbo shifted uneasily. "Well, he's not dead?" he offered uncertainly. "I don't really condone not feeding someone at all, but Thranduil seems quite determined to at least make someone go through something of what Legolas has..."

Dís pursed her lips together into a tight line. Thorin was certain that his little sister was biting her tongue to keep from saying anything in response to that. "And... the wizard friend of yours," Thorin began, "is he going to be of any real help besides keeping Thranduil from being homicidal?"

"I would think that'd be enough on its own," Bilbo drawled. "But he did say that if I brought him the map that we found in your father's office he might be able to find out more about it."

Thorin hesitated for a moment. He didn't really want to hand over what could be a priceless family heirloom to someone that he didn't even know. What if he was to never see the ancient map again? His instinctive protectiveness of his people and their heritage rose up in an instant at the possibility. Still, if handing the sheet over saved his nephew by saving the Elf, well, that made it more difficult to be stubborn. Though, not impossible.

After another moment, Thorin sighed and went over to his desk. He unlocked the top drawer with a thick brass key he now kept on him at all times. He dug through the various papers in the drawer before getting to the bottom where the map was hiding. With no small amount of reluctance, Thorin handed the parchment over to Bilbo. "I hope it helps."

"If it doesn't... I've been thinking," Dís said quietly where she was still holding onto her elder son. "The tunnel you're building, Thorin. You began it as a way to attack the elves... but couldn't you also use it to smuggle Legolas out?"

"The tunnel is far from being completed, Dís," Thorin pointed out.

"But we know it will be a way out of the mountain once it is complete," Dís replied entirely undeterred. "It wouldn't be ideal but we do have it as a back up plan."

"Getting’ an Elf through the mountain down ta where the tunnel's bein’ built wouldn' be easy," Nori commented. "It's a lotta stairs an’ a lotta dwarves ‘tween there an’ there."

There was some murmuring about the idea before Thorin raised a hand. "We'll keep the idea in reserve. If the map turns out to have nothing useful we will look closer into using the tunnel to smuggle the Elf out." He didn't particularly want to try and use the tunnel for such a thing but if he had to, then he would. Especially since it now seemed as if saving his nephew directly related to if they saved the Elf. Perhaps Bofur would be valuable to consult about the whole idea. He was one of the more ingenious miners in the mountain although he was currently working on Thrain's newest gold vein.

"Uncle," Fíli said softly. "Can I go and see the Elf?"

Thorin looked over. "Why? Gimli can handle it."

"I just feel like I should talk to him. I'm the only one here that's spoken with his father directly," Fíli pointed out. "Might convince him to help us more if we give him a little information."

"That's a good idea," Óin agreed instantly. "More he trusts us the better off we'll all be in this situation."

Several moments had passed before Thorin nodded. "Very well. Take some parchment and ink with you so that he can write that letter. Hopefully, Gimli has managed to get him awake by now."

Fíli nodded and kissed his mother on the cheek before grabbing the supplies and leaving to hurry through the halls of Erebor. This late at night the majority of the mountain was asleep, but as he headed away from the more residential areas to enter the areas around the kitchens and common rooms, more Dwarves were out and about. Fíli greeted a few of his friends as he hurried past and steadfastly ignored people calling after him or asking where Kíli was. He didn't exactly have a good excuse as to where his brother was hiding and also didn't want to stop and come up with one on the fly.

Fíli reached the hidden door and gave the usual knock. There were several tense moments as Fíli waited in the dimly lit hall. Finally, the door opened and Fíli rushed inside. Gimli looked a little startled but stepped out of the way. "He's not awake yet."

"Damn, do you know how long he's been asleep?" Fíli asked, eyes flying to the makeshift bed instantly.

"Not really," Gimli said while closing the heavy metal plated door. "He was awake when I had to leave so I guess only a couple hours at most."

Fíli scowled and crossed the room to crouch down beside the staring Elf. He felt only mildly bad when he reached out and gave the blonde's shoulder a firm shake. "Hey, Legolas. I need your help with something."

"If he can sleep through torture, I'm fair certain he can sleep through having his shoulder shook," Gimli pointed out.

"Well, what else would you suggest?" Fíli asked a little testily as he sat back hard on the ground. He had been hoping for the Elf to be awake and cooperative but maybe that had been a realistic hope, to begin with. Probably.

Gimli hummed a little and sat down beside the Elf where he usually was. "Well, sometimes food wakes him up. You could try bringing some in," the redhead suggested. "If that doesn't work though, we'll probably just have to wait."

"Kíli is depending on us getting this done quickly!" Fíli argued.

"Unless you know something I don't about Elven sleep, then there's nothing else we can try," Gimli snapped. "Just go and get some food. And maybe a drink for yourself to calm down. Sitting here waiting isn't going to help anyone do anything." 

Fíli gave a very half-hearted glare. "I am calm."

"About as calm as Thorin was when you and your brother went missing," Gimli replied in a sudden and entirely unconvincingly sweet voice. Gimli just smiled at the expression on his cousin's face. "Face it, Fee... the line of Durin's not so good with surprises like this."

Fíli sighed heavily and pushed himself up to his feet. He could tell that arguing with Gimli we be about as useful as arguing with Kíli. "Alright, alright. I'll go keep myself busy. I hope you're right that food will wake him up." Gimli didn't bother to voice his likewise sentiment as Kíli left the Chamber. Gimli still wasn't sure how to tell if Legolas was just sleeping like normal or if he was in that deeper healing sleep that Ori mentioned. He hoped the Elven Prince was in a more normal state and could be woken up. Although, waking up someone who was using sleep as an escape (and who obviously could use the rest) made Gimli uneasy for other reasons.

Gimli sighed and looked down at the Elf. Legolas didn't so much as flinch but then Gimli had become somewhat used to that. Even when Legolas was awake he tended to not move very much. The Dwarf had a theory that Legolas was either too weak to do much moving or in too much pain. Gimli really hated the situation and was having more and more trouble stopping himself from ripping the tubes out of the Elf's still thin back.

Fíli returned with a tray of hot food and a bottle of ale after only perhaps half an hour. Gimli was a little impressed that Fíli had managed to get the food so quickly. The tray was put down beside Gimli and then Fíli took the bottle to sit against the wall like he had before when complaining about Thorin and Kíli. "How long does it usually take for him to wake up after bringing in food?"

"Not long," Gimli assured him. "Usually he's pretty eager to eat, which I guess you can't really blame him for."

"... no, I guess not," Fíli muttered as he pulled the cork free of the bottle in his hands. "It's just our luck isn't it... that he'd fall asleep again before I could get him to write that letter."

"It isn't like last time," Gimli said. "We know he'll wake up. We just have to stick close by so that when he does we'll be here."

Fíli frowned as the Elf continued to just lay there unmoving. "I feel like I should be shaking him or slapping his cheek a little or something. That usually wakes people up doesn't it?"

"I would prefer it if you didn't..." Legolas muttered.

"Legolas! You're up!"

The Elf hummed and closed his eyes finally. "Yes, though I am still quite tired so I hope you have a good reason for bothering me."

Fíli put his bottle down and crossed the distance to kneel down in front of the Elf's bed. "I went out of the mountain, and I met your father." Legolas' eyes snapped open instantly. "We're trying to reach an agreement with him," Fíli said before sliding parchment and ink closer. "He wanted us to have you write him."

Legolas studied Fíli for several moments before very slowly adjusting his position. He winced as he tried to get up and Gimli moved to help. "How is he?"

"Upset," Fíli said. "And misses you. That's why he wants this letter, I think, aside from proving you're alive and we're trustworthy."

"I do not think I can write much," Legolas murmured.

"He said he didn't care how long it was or how long it takes to get it to him... so long as it is in your hand," Fíli said, trying his absolute best to not sound as impatient as he really was. The longer it took Legolas to write the letter then the more meals Kíli would have to suffer without. "He also wants it dated but I think that's more to test us than anything else."

Legolas hummed quietly and reached for the parchment and the pen. Fíli tried to not notice how much the Elf's hand and arm shook as he carefully loaded the pen with ink and brought it to the parchment. "Thank you," Gimli said quietly.

"I'm not writing this letter for you Dwarves," Legolas said as he began to write. The normally crisp curves of Elvish text were a little shaky but mostly legible, or would be if either Dwarf had taken the time to learn Elvish. "I am writing it for my father. What is the date?" Fíli quietly gave it to him and Legolas nodded while still writing.

Legolas only wrote a few lines on the paper before putting the pen back in the well and then slowly lowering himself again. He let out a long sigh as he did and faint signs of strain disappeared from his face. “What did you write?” Fíli asked before he could stop himself.

“That I am alive… and miss him. Now deliver it before I give into the temptation to tell him to not trust a single one of you,” Legolas replied as he closed his eyes again.

Fíli was silent for a moment before nodding and hurrying out of the room. “I’m surprised you didn’t already have that written down,” Gimli said as he adjusted the blanket over Legolas’ shoulder.

Legolas’ mouth twitched from a surpressed smile. “Maybe I did… in my own way. But even if this turns out to be an elaborate trap from you Dwarves… I cannot allow my father to hear nothing of me. I cannot let him suffer as I am,” Legolas said. “Spiting you is not as tempting as being able to say something to him. Even if it is through mere words on paper.”

“This isn’t a trap,” Gimli muttered. “I promise.”

“I believe you do not intend it as one,” Legolas said. He opened his eyes again and turned slightly to look up at his nurse. “But you are not the one in charge, now are you?”

“Thorin wouldn’t do that either.”

Legolas just hummed thoughtfully and closed his eyes again. Gimli let him have his rest and watched over the Elf. Slowly, Legolas’ eyes slid half open and he returned to his usual vacant stare of sleep.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not the longest chapter I've ever written but I needed to get some momentum building up again... Also Happy Birthday for me... for 17 minutes since I post at really silly hours of night.

Dáin, Lord of the Iron Hills, frowned at the parchment in his hands. Early that morning, a Raven had arrived from Erebor. Thorin wrote regularly, but this was the first time Dáin had heard this particular tale. Part of him wasn't sure he could trust the words he was reading, but no, the Raven was adamant that the letter came from Thorin himself and the handwriting was in the Crown Prince's usual tight and somewhat messily hurried scrawl. Dáin figured if someone were to forge a letter from Thorin they'd assume he had better handwriting, but they'd have been wrong. Dáin's cousin was always in too much of a hurry to write neatly. But still, this... story, was hard to believe. The very idea that Thrór had gone insane and kidnapped an _elf prince_ was baffling, much less that Thráin would have then gone along with it.

Almost before he realized what he was doing, Dáin picked up the envelope and checked the seal on the back again. Yes, the imprint in the wax was definitely Thorin's. Nobody, not even Elves, could have made such a perfect and detailed forgery. However, admitting that the letter was genuine brought a whole slew of new issues Dáin would have to deal with. The Dwarven Lord sighed heavily and sat back in his chair. 

Thorin had asked for some favors within the various Dwarven courts outside of Erebor in supporting his treason, which was going to be an incredibly hard sell. Thorin was asking for a lot on only faith. While Dwarves were very willing to give the benefit of the doubt their family and leaders, treason was a bit too serious to just accept without some amount of proof. Thorin wasn't able to write himself to all the different families and colonies to seek support as the Elves wouldn't allow many letters through their barricade. Every Raven had to be carefully timed to leave when it was still dark enough to help hide the black birds but light enough for those same messengers to see where they were going. Dáin didn't have such restrictions on sending out letters.

Dáin sighed and pulled a fresh sheet of parchment over to him. "Thank you so much for drawing me into this, Cousin," he muttered even while puzzling over how to put this whole mess into written words for the rest of the Dwarven Lords.

* * *

Kili watched the sliver of light from the rising sun cross the wall of his little room. Almost a full day had now passed since he'd last eaten and though he was determined to not complain his stomach hadn't seemed to have gotten the message. He pressed his hands harder against his belly to try and quiet the grumbling, but he was pretty certain that the Elves guarding him could still hear the noises.

Kili knew that his brother would be rushing to get that letter and then get back but sneaking in and out of the mountain wasn't easy. Neither side would be willing to just let him climb the walls of Erebor. That was why Fíli had to wait most of the day yesterday to even leave. Now, with the sun steadily rising higher in the sky, Fíli would have to wait again if he wasn't already well on his way down. The younger Prince would just have to wait as patiently as possible.

Near midday, the door to his room opened, and Kíli lifted his head to see who it was. Kíli's eyes widened, and he nearly leapt from the bed as Tauriel came into the room. "Tauriel! I wasn't expecting company," Kíli said as he quickly pulled some of the wrinkles out of his clothes. The attempt to straighten himself didn't amount to much in all honesty, but he couldn't help but try. He had his Dwarven pride to think of after all.

Tauriel gave a small smile. "I may not be allowed to give you something to eat, but I thought some tea might be more welcomed than water," she explained holding a steaming mug up slightly.

Kíli wasn't much of a tea drinker, but she was right that anything besides water was welcomed considering the circumstances. He took the cup with thanks and took a careful sip. The tea was still hot enough that he didn't actually taste anything and he decided to let it cool a little more before trying again. "Is there any sign of my brother?" he asked after putting the mug on the table beside the pitcher of water.

"Not as of yet," Tauriel answered. "But he seemed quite determined to come back quickly, so I don't imagine it will be long."

Kíli couldn't help but grin. "Nah, it won't be," he agreed. He wasn't even slightly worried about that. He wouldn't have agreed to this deal in the first place if he wasn't confident in his brother.

The two lapsed into silence for several moments, and Kíli shifted his weight uneasily. "Do you think your King believes we're sincere?" he asked. Kíli truly did want to help, and he found he wasn't at all happy to be mistrusted. Childish misbehavior notwithstanding, Kíli had never been looked upon with such suspicion.

"I'm not certain," Tauriel answered as she went to the window and slid the wooden slats so that the gap between them opened and allowed more light shine through. "It's hard to judge what My Lord is thinking most of the time. Even for those of us who have served him for centuries."

Kíli tried not to wince. He had hoped she would have a slightly more definite answer than that. He trusted that his brother would come back, but he wasn't as confident that such a thing would mean much to Thranduil. All his life Kíli had heard how Thranduil hated them and was evil and it was hard for the Dwarven Prince to entirely shake away such a gloomy outlook. "Do you believe we're sincere?" Kíli asked.

Tauriel turned and studied the young Dwarf for several moments. "I haven't decided yet," she said finally. "More will become clear when your brother returns. And whether he returns with the letter or with weapons."

"He wouldn't do that," Kíli said. "Even if he did try to fight his way to me there's too many of you."

"We've come to realize over the years that Dwarves are not always reasonable," Tauriel replied. "If they were... this would have ended long ago."

Kíli supposed that she had a point there. "Can I ask you something else, Tauriel?" She inclined her head slightly, and Kíli took that as an agreement. "What actually did start all of this? My Grandfather says that your King sabotaged a trade treaty, but now it's pretty obvious that it was something else..."

"You mean aside from the kidnapping?" Tauriel asked.

Kíli hesitated but then nodded. "I just... want to hear your side..."

The silence lingered uncomfortably for several minutes. Kíli was just beginning to think Tauriel wouldn't answer at all when she sighed and turned fully to face him. "Very well. It was the morning after one of our festivals. We used to have them all the time, but it has been quite a while since we celebrated any. Legolas went out riding early that morning, which wasn't that unusual for him. He was armed and knew well where to not venture alone. But when he did not return by midday we sent out search parties. After some searching, we found his mount and several spider corpses at the bottom of the ravine, but Legolas was nowhere to be found. Fearing that the foul creatures had taken him back to their nest, we hunted the spiders in an effort to bring him back."

Tauriel paused there for a moment, and the look on her face made Kíli want to reach out to comfort her. Before he could make himself move, she shook her head ever so slightly. "We cleared three nests with no sign of Legolas before King Thrór sent us a letter saying that they had Legolas here in Erebor. My King Thranduil was so relieved... I have never seen him as such before or since. We came to get Legolas, but King Thrór would not permit us to see him." Tauriel took several steps away from the window to sit on the single chair in the room. "Thrór showed us Legolas' knives... and his circlet that he'd been wearing that morning. He doesn't usually wear it, but because we had been up all night at the festival, he still had it on. At first, Thrór said that Legolas was too ill to move, but he would not let our own healers attend to him either. King Thranduil demanded to see his son, but Thrór refused and instead demanded compensation. I take it you can imagine how things went from there..."

Kíli nodded a little. "I guess he thought he had an opportunity," he muttered.

"We were allies, and he betrayed us," Tauriel said fiercely. "We did nothing to provoke such actions!"

Kíli instantly brought his hands up in defense. "I didn't say he was right! I don't know how anyone can come across someone in need of help and then keep them hostage like My great-grandfather did... And I don't know how my grandfather could have continued with it."

Tauriel was still scowling but after a moment sighed. "I'm sorry for snapping. You are right in that you've not once defended his actions," she admitted softly.

"It's been a long time since you've seen him," Kíli said. "You miss him. I understand."

"I doubt it," Tauriel said. "You don't seem as if you're the sort to be separated from your brother for very long at all."

Kíli couldn't help but grin widely. "Maybe not," he acknowledged. His smile fell a moment later. "But I can imagine a little of how it must be like. It's not safe to sneak in and out of the mountain like this so I can't help but worry since I'm not there to watch his back."

"From the way you two were acting yesterday it seems he's the one watching your back," she said. 

Kíli scowled a little which only made Tauriel smile in response. "I watch Fee's back just as much as he does mine," Kíli said with a very dignified royal pout.

"I'm sure," Tauriel said as she got to her feet again. "Now, you should drink your tea. It won't absolve your hunger, but it should help stave off any ill effects from not having anything to eat."

Kíli blinked several times in surprise. "It will?"

Tauriel nodded. "The herbs within it will provide you with energy and nutrition. We use it while on hunts and for those who are too injured to eat normally," she explained. "It does quite well as a substitute for short periods."

Kíli was a little surprised and touched that she'd even brought such a thing to him when she most assuredly didn't need to. "Thank you," he said as he reached over to the now cooled off mug. "I appreciate it."

"I imagine you won't really need it for as short a time as you've been without food but... it made me uncomfortable," she admitted. While Tauriel wanted the Dwarves to pay for what they'd done to her friend deliberately starving someone was not how she would prefer to do it. Though she understood why her King would consider it just. And it certainly didn't help that each time the Dwarf's stomach growled, it reminded her of how Legolas must have suffered, which was not something she wanted to think on. She _couldn't_ think on it if she was to keep her temper.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more I write him, the sassier Thranduil gets... I can't bring myself to be upset by this...

_Father,_

_Knowing you have been outside trying to reach me all these years has been comforting to me. These Dwarves will help you, I think, if only to assuage their own guilt. I miss you, Father._

_My love,  
Legolas_

Thranduil barely looked at the date on the paper other than to confirm it was there. His hand slid into his sleeve to trace the braid wrapped around his wrist. He did not know if he liked how his son's writing looked, it was shaky and difficult to read in places where too much ink had escape the pen, but he could still recognize it. A part of him wanted to continue to starve the darker Dwarven prince out of spite, but he did not think that would help him in his goal much at all.

Thranduil raised his eyes to examine the uneasily shifting blonde dwarf in front of him. Deliberately, he folded the short letter back in half and ran his nail over the fold until the parchment began to form a sharp blade of an edge. "My son seems to think you will help us," Thranduil said.

"We've already said we will," Fíli replied before he could help himself. Talking back to the Elvenking probably wasn't smart, but he was getting a very sick of being doubted.

Thranduil tapped the letter from his son against the table in front of him. "You said your Uncle is the one that is leading this endeavour from your side? I would like to speak with him in that case." Most likely he wouldn't be able to speak with the Crowned Prince of Erebor face to face but they would have to make do. If it saved his son, Thranduil would deal with the annoyance of sending letters back and forth.

The blonde Dwarf nodded. "Of course, but, uh, can I see my brother now?" he asked anxiously.

Thranduil was again tempted to be unreasonable, but thought better of it for the sake of his son. He nodded ever so slightly and got to his feet. "Follow me," Thranduil said as he led the way from his room and into the camp.

"Are you going to feed my brother now?" Prince Fíli asked. The Elvenking was quiet, mostly just to make the young Prince even more anxious. Fíli did indeed seem to get very upset at the lack of answer. "Well?" he pressed.

"I said that I would, did I not?" Thranduil replied coolly. "You act as if he has been starved for centuries rather than two days."

"Two days is bad enough," Fíli muttered.

“Indeed." The unusual pair walked through the camp and got several questioning looks from the Elves that they passed by. Fíli was somewhat uncomfortable from all the looks but Thranduil seemed entirely oblivious to them. Though, Fíli rather doubted that the Elfking was as unaware as he appeared to be.

Thranduil led the way to the small wooden shed that Fíli had been kept in with his brother before and walked in past the guards outside. Kíli practically sprung up when they came in. "Fíli!"

"Kee! Are you alright?" Fíli asked as he pushed past Thranduil and rushed to his brother's side.

"I'm fine. Really. It wasn't that bad," Kíli insisted. Despite what he said his stomach let out a particularly well-timed and very loud growl. He blushed under his stubble and shifted. "Ignore that..."

Fíli turned to glare at Thranduil. "I came back with the letter. Can he eat now? You said once I came back and I'm back."

"I'm getting tired of being questioned by you, Prince Fíli," Thranduil said evenly. "You have already asked and been given the answer to that question twice. Try not to act any more stupid than you truly are."

Kíli bristled at the insult to his brother, but Fíli quickly put a hand to his shoulder so as to keep the younger Dwarf quiet. Thranduil didn't seem all that impressed by the show of restraint. "Tauriel."

The door opened and the auburn haired Elf stepped forward. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Have the young Prince brought something to eat," Thranduil ordered without looking at her. "No need to wake the cooks and get him anything special. Whatever is left from dinner will be sufficient."

Tauriel looked like she was going to protest in some way but then thought twice. She instead bowed and then left the room. Thranduil moved further into the shack before sitting in the same chair he had used during their breakfast two days ago. "Satisfied?"

"Thank you," Kíli said sincerely.

Thranduil just inclined his head a fraction. "Can we move on to more important matters then?" The two Princes nodded. "Very good. Now, what progress has been made in your plan to free my son?"

"We know that there's rumored to be a secret way out of the mountain but we no longer know where it is," Fíli said. "We're looking for it now and once we find it we'll use it to smuggle your son out, hopefully before anyone notices he's gone at all."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed. "A secret way? And you aren't using this secret way out of your mountain already?" he questioned. The Dwarves not using such a method to try and circumvent the barricade seemed unlikely to Thranduil.

"It was built ages ago... before any of this ever happened, as an emergency escape. The location of the passage has been all but forgotten," Fíli said defensively.

"Besides, _we_ got out of the mountain without a secret passage," Kíli pointed out.

"And you are lucky my soldiers did not simply shoot you when they spotted you," Thranduil replied. “If you had not turned out to be valuable I would have severely punished them for _not_ killing you.”

Kíli frowned. “Well, that seems harsh…”

Thranduil narrowed his eyes slightly at the comment and Fíli elbowed his brother in the side. Now wasn’t the time to be starting arguments; especially, one over fair versus harsh treatments. Thranduil stared until Kíli shifted uneasily and then turned his icy gaze to Fíli. “And my son’s condition? I find it hard to believe that he’s been an easy captive for you.”

Fíli tried to not show anything on his face. “He’s being restrained,” he answered. That wasn’t technically true anymore unless one counted the connections in his back, but Gandalf had been pretty clear about not telling Thranduil the full truth about Legolas’ condition. The old wizard had presented a very convincing argument against too much information. Still, telling a half-truth to the worried King wasn’t settling particularly well.

“No doubt,” Thranduil said. “Will that be a problem in gaining his freedom?”

“Shouldn’t,” Fíli said perhaps a shade too quickly. “We’re already working to figure out the… last bit of it,” he added.

Just then, the door opened and Tauriel came into the shack followed by another Elf with a tray. A modest meal of some sort of soup and bread was placed on the table and the Elf then gave a bow to Thranduil before leaving. Tauriel stayed though she did stay near the door. Kíli instantly started in on the food.

“Satisfied?”

Though the question had been aimed at Fíli, Kíli was the one to answer Thranduil. “Very. You know, for being lots of vegetables and stuff this isn’t that bad,” he said through a mouth half full of soggy bread.

Tauriel somehow managed to maintain a straight face as Thranduil’s eyebrow twitched. “I’ll be sure to tell my cooks that their work is acceptable to a Dwarven palate. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled,” he said so flatly that Kíli missed the sarcasm in his voice.

“They should be. I’m a very picky eater normally,” Kíli said.

Fíli snorted, “By whose definition, Brother?”

“Oh shut it,” Kíli replied cheerfully.

The door opened again and a tall figure in long grey robes and a pointed hat came in. “Ah, I thought I might find you here, King Thranduil,” Gandalf said as he took his hat from his head and putting it on the table when he went past. He took a seat on the only other chair in the room, which Kíli swore had not been there before.

“And might I ask, what you are doing here, Mithrandir?” Thranduil asked icily.

“I told you before, Thranduil. I am here to help,” Gandalf said. “To ensure your son’s safe return it will take cooperation both inside and outside the mountain. Erebor was built to be all but impenetrable, as I am sure you’ve noticed. It will be no easy task to sneak Legolas out from within it any more than it would be to break into it in the first place.”

Thranduil’s face soured at the reminder of how long he’d been laying siege to the damned mountain. “Things never tend to turn out very well for those you ‘help’, Mithrandir.”

Gandalf frowned. “I’m not so certain that is entirely fair.”

“It is fair, but let us not recount all of the examples currently,” Thranduil drawled. “You say you are here to help, Mithrandir… then help. Surely you must have some meddlesome plan in your mind already.”

Again, Gandalf looked affronted. “Meddlesome? After all my hard work over the centuries and this is the thanks I get,” he muttered as he pulled out his pipe. “I will assume your temper is from your worry over your son, Thranduil-King, and forgive you,” he said indignantly.

“I’m sure I thank you.”

Gandalf grunted while lighting his pipe with his finger and then blowing the magical flame out. “Now, as it so happens, I do have a thought or two on how this might be achieved.”

“Of course.”

Gandalf took a few puffs of smoke before leaning forward to address the others in the room. “As Prince Fíli says, there is indeed a secret passage into the mountain. The problem on how to find it has been entrusted to me through my source inside the mountain.”

“Ah, yes, the spy,” Thranduil said. “He was ever so helpful before.”

“That could have gone better, I’ll grant you,” Gandalf admitted. He hadn’t been overly thrilled when Bilbo had been found and then imprisoned. “But now that he has been released he has said that he will bring me a map that may very well hold the key to finding this entrance.”

Thranduil straightened in his seat. “A map?”

“Yes, however it is apparently written almost entirely in Ancient Dwarvish and I cannot read that. Nor, do I think, can you, King Thranduil,” Gandalf said.

“Then it is not particularly useful, is it?”

“I cannot read the map, but there are others in Middle Earth who can,” Gandalf pointed out, waving his pipe off towards the distance. “Lord Elrond, still reads it, I believe.”

Thranduil narrowed his eyes. “Rivendell is on the other side of the Misty Mountains,” he said. “No small journey. I would have my son back now, Mithrandir. Not in many months time.”

“And if it were possible, I would do so for you… however, I do not think it is,” Gandalf said. “Erebor is large, even when only searching the outermost tunnels. It would take even longer to search for the door inch by inch than it would to go to Elrond and have him examine the map.”

“I will not leave my son in that mountain to go ponder over a map with Elrond,” Thranduil said, nearly jumping to his feet.

“I was not thinking you would be going, Thranduil,” Gandalf said entirely calmly.

“Then who do you suggest, Mithrandir?”

Gandalf looked surprised at the question. “Why, myself for one. I am sure that the Dwarves would be willing to volunteer one of their Princes here,” he said gesturing to the two almost forgotten about Dwarves sitting on the bed. “And perhaps a few Elves of your choosing. Oh, and my source, of course. He will be most useful, I think.”

“You would have me let one of these Princes go to venture beyond our barricade?” Thranduil demanded. “They are too valuable to let wander away and possibly cause trouble with the other Dwarves.”

“That is why I suggested some Elves as well,” Gandalf said patiently. “I highly doubt they will allow our good Princes here to escape and cause any trouble.”

“We aren’t going to escape and betray you,” Kíli said. “Really, we want to make this right. We aren’t looking for an opportunity to go back on our word.”

Tauriel stepped forward. “If you wish it, my Lord Thranduil, I will ensure this myself.” Tauriel found herself on the receiving end of several looks ranging from thoughtful to suspicious to some strange look from Prince Kíli she couldn’t quite place.

Thranduil slowly got to his feet. “I will consider it. But nothing can be decided until we have the map in front of us.” The Elfking looked over at the two Princes again. “Until I have come to a decision… you two will stay here. Under guard.”

Kíli would have protested but Fíli hit him in the leg. This didn’t exactly go unseen by Thranduil, but he decided to ignore it and just left the shack. “That could have gone better…” Kíli said sourly as he rubbed his thigh where he’s brother had slapped him. “And did you have to hit so hard, Fee?”

“Oh, it was barely a tap,” Fíli replied.

“Actually, I think that did go rather well,” Gandalf said. “Him considering the proposal is better than I thought I’d get. I was fairly sure I’d have to plan to sneak one of you out of his camp entirely before the end of this…”

Tauriel frowned. “I would advise you not to do that… you cannot escape us on foot… especially not in our own forest,” she pointed out.

“You wouldn’t really go after us would you?” Kíli asked with a pout that was surprisingly effective.

“I am duty bound to not allow captives to escape,” Tauriel replied coldly. “My only concern… is freeing Prince Legolas from your Mountain.”

“He will be freed,” Kíli said. “But you have to trust us, Tauriel.”

There was a long moment of silence as Tauriel studied his honest face. “I would like to,” she admitted softly. “But I can’t. Not yet…” With that she gave a slight bow and then left the shack to return to her own duties. Gandalf hummed thoughtfully and puffed on his pipe.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this chapter to have a bit more meat to it but I also really wanted to get an update out for you all... so I stopped staring at a half done chapter and just finished it off. Hopefully it doesn't seem to rushed for all that.

"Can I ask you something?" Gimli asked.

Legolas sighed and opened his eyes to look over at the Dwarf that was again keeping him company. Though he very much appreciated actually having someone nearby for the first time in hundreds of years, staying entirely conscious was still a chore for him. "Ask, though I may not answer if the question is inappropriate," Legolas stated.

"Fair enough," Gimli agreed. "When we get you out of here... what are you going to do?"

Legolas hummed thoughtfully and closed his eyes. "You mean after the initial rest so that I recover my strength, I take it?" he asked back. He didn't wait for Gimli to answer, however, "I suppose I would very much enjoy washing my hair again..." he murmured. "It feels disgusting, and yet I must endure it a bit longer, it seems."

Just then, a knock came from the door. Gimli jumped up to go unlock the door. The time of day said it was Bombur with food for the Elf. He had been very good with bringing plenty of Óin approved food for Legolas, and slowly the blonde was looking less gaunt. He was still far too thin, but Bombur was determined to not let that condition last any longer than he had to.

Gimli still had to help Legolas eat, but the Elf was getting well enough to at least lift the bowl himself and just needed help staying upright. Legolas didn't say anything about the thick arm wrapped around his waist which helped him stay upright, and Gimli thought that he probably didn't _have_ to hold the Elf as carefully as he did, but he couldn't help the urge. Legolas still looked far too fragile, and Gimli didn't want to risk the poor thing falling to the floor.

Legolas still had to take a long time to eat even though the food wasn’t solid but he managed to get all the soup down after several minutes of slow but constant sipping. "Do you know when I will be able to eat something more substantial?" Legolas asked Bombur as he lowered his bowl to the side for the final time.

"Shouldn't be too much longer now," Bombur assured him. "Óin wants to make sure your stomach can handle it so just a few more days on the broth. I promise."

Legolas, it seemed to Gimli, was disappointed by that answer, but he nodded in understanding rather than protesting. Bombur gathered up the dishes and left the room, but not before putting a fresh container of herb-laden tea down beside Legolas' mug. The special tea and also clean water were now kept in the room at all times for the Elf so that if he woke up when nobody was around, he would still be able to at least have something to drink. Legolas sighed again and let his head fall back against Gimli's shoulder. "Has there been any progress in removing these vile things from my back?" he asked after several minutes of sitting in silence.

"Óin, Balin, and Ori are all working hard to figure it out," Gimli assured him. "They've found some references to the machine by the head engineer of this thing, but they need to find out a bit more. At the very least, if they have to, we can always question the one that makes the lamps."

Legolas' eyes blazed. "He is still alive then?" he demanded, lifting his head and looking over at Gimli.

"Yes, but he's very old..." Gimli murmured. "He's the last of the group that was in charge of this horrible chamber that they put you in. He was just a young apprentice when you were first... hung in here..." He explained awkwardly.

Legolas was quiet for a moment. "Rugnar."

Gimli couldn't help but be surprised. "Er, yes. That's him," he confirmed. He hadn't thought that Legolas would know the names of any of the dwarves that had done this to him aside from the King but then again Legolas had shown how good his ears were.

"I would very much like to deal with that one..." Legolas said. "Almost as much as I wish to deal with Thraín, though I doubt you and your Prince will allow me either of those wishes."

"I'm sure some effort will be made to satisfy you," Gimli said after several minutes of silence. "But it's really not up to me, Legolas."

The silence between them was almost stifling. "It won't be enough," Legolas finally murmured. "No matter what the punishment will be... even if you do allow me my vengeance it won't be enough. Nothing will ever be enough." Again Gimli didn't have very much he could say to that. He found he agreed with Legolas but couldn't help the feeling that he _shouldn't_ be agreeing with him. Thraín was still his King even if he'd lost his mind.

"What do you want to do to them?" Gimli asked softly.

Legolas took a deep breath and clenched his fist against Gimli's knee. "Horrible things," he said harshly. "I have imagined the most unpleasant things for them... things that I am frightened that I ever thought of... but I can't help but want to do every single one of them. Over and over again until they are just shreds of who they were before."

Gimli's arm tightened around Legolas' waist. He should have put the Elf down by now, but neither of them had made mention of that. "It's normal to be angry. I'd be more worried if you weren't feeling such things."

Legolas shook his head slightly. "This is not just anger," he whispered.

"Then what is it?"

Legolas was quiet for several minutes. "I'm not certain I can describe it well," he admitted finally.

"Try?" Gimli prodded.

Again Legolas hesitated. "I... it is like a black hatred that wants to drag me down and consume me entirely. And the most fearful part is that I almost want to let it... but I know that if I allow it to do so, I will never escape it," he murmured. Gimli was close enough to feel the shiver run through the Elf's thin body. "You say it is normal to be angry, but this does not feel normal. It seems more like some sickly sweet drug... One that if I partake in, I will never escape the draw of and will poison myself with."

Gimli couldn't help but be unsettled. He didn't like how Legolas had described that or how his voice had sounded. The Elf Prince didn't sound scared despite what he said. Instead, Legolas' voice was somewhat detached from the whole ordeal. Gimli was far from an expert in Elves or just general emotional health, but he took such a distant sounding voice as a bad sign. Surely, when talking about anger and hatred, there should be more emotion in one's voice, even for an Elf?

Gimli tried to come up with something to say to that and found himself floundering. The trembling in Legolas' body started to become more pronounced until he was shaking. "Legolas?" Legolas gasped and gripped Gimli's arm tightly. The Elf took another ragged gasp, and Gimli realized that he was on the verge of some sort of panic attack. "Legolas!" 

Legolas continued to struggle for breath as Gimli turned to more directly face him. Legolas' pupils had become blown wide to nearly consume the blue entirely. "Legolas! Whatever you're thinking of, you have to stop. Focus on me! I'm right here in front of you!" Gimli said giving the Elf a little shake. Legolas gasped again, and his eyes flickered back and forth. Whatever was panicking the Prince, Gimli had to get his attention off of it. He grabbed either side of Legolas' face and tried to catch his flickering gaze. "Legolas!"

Their eyes met after a second and Gimli curled his fingers behind Legolas’ jaw to try and keep the Elf focused. "I must get out of here," Legolas breathed. "Please, Gimli... I am suffocating in this place."

"We will get you out, Legolas. But I promise you're not suffocating," Gimli said as calmly as he could. "I'll make sure you are released from this place, but you need to calm down before you pass out."

Legolas panted hard for another few minutes before managing to calm down slightly. "I'm sorry," he said reaching up to wrap his thin fingers around Gimli's thick wrist. "It just... it hit me so suddenly how long I have been trapped in here. If only I could have done something before... If I had been conscious when they found me... I would not have been trapped here without light or growing things or fresh air..."

Gimli could tell that Legolas was getting worked up again. "Legolas, it's alright," Gimli said while still cupping the Elf's thin face. "You're not trapped here without hope any longer. And you have your dreams to retreat to if you need."

"It's not enough..." Legolas closed his eyes. "I know it is false and I want the reality. I want to feel the grass and smell the fresh air again. The illusion is an empty comfort."

"And if I meet you there?" Gimli asked.

Legolas opened his eyes again and stared. The silence stretched on until Gimli became uncomfortable. "You shouldn't join me in my dreams too often, Gimli. It is dangerous for a mortal mind."

"Dangerous how?" Gimli asked warily.

"A mortal mind can easily be overwhelmed by such illusion, and you run the risk of never waking up again," Legolas explained. "That is why I was trying to keep you from joining me again, aside from disliking not knowing how you got there in the first place. I do not know what would happen if you were to be trapped within my dream... nothing good I imagine."

Gimli wanted to just shrug off that warning entirely, but he stopped himself from doing so. He didn’t think that Legolas would be mentioning this if it wasn’t important so he should take the warning seriously. “Well, I guess, since we don’t know how I keep winding up in your retreat, we’ll just have to hope that I don’t get trapped.”

“If I did not have to use the enchantment so often then you would not be brought into my dreams with me,” Legolas said as he closed his eyes. “But I cannot help it. I know it is a vain thing and yet I can’t stay away from it, or I truly would go mad.”

“Don’t you worry about me,” Gimli said, finally lowering his hands from Legolas’ face to pull the Elf back to his previous position leaning his slight weight against Gimli’s side. “You do what you have to. Let me worry about me.”

Legolas opened his eyes again and this time looked faintly amused. “I have a distinct feeling, Glóin’s son, that you are not particularly good at looking after yourself,” he said. “You strike me as the sort that, if he had the ability to control appearing in my dreams, would still do so even after I just told him that it could be dangerous for him.”

“Maybe it’s a danger worth taking,” Gimli said as casually as he was able.

“More likely you are simply stubborn,” Legolas replied dryly. “One of the dubious benefits to being trapped among you Dwarves for so long is that I have learned a thing or two about you. You like being stubborn and contrary just for the sake of it sometimes.”

Gimli frowned. “I’m not sure that’s a very flattering observation,” he muttered. Even if it was probably truer than he’d like to admit.

“I did say it was a dubious benefit,” Legolas pointed out.

Gimli grunted a little and gave a poke to the Elf’s side. Legolas yelped a little and gave the Dwarf’s thick chest a light swat in retaliation. “Well, even if I weren’t inclined to help you free, I would be now,” Gimli said lightly. “Must get you out of here before you learn all our secrets after all.”

Legolas snorted inelegantly. “Whatever your reason, I’m just glad you seem to be doing it at all.”


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This ends on a bit of on ominous note but I'm not sorry. Enjoy!

"The wizard is suggesting _what_?" Thorin demanded.

Bilbo was unimpressed by the outrage on the crown prince's face. "To take the map to Elrond and let him take a look at it. He thinks that'll be faster than searching all over Erebor for some door that nobody has any clue about," he explained again. "Suggested one of your nephews take it along with some Elves so that everyone is happy."

Thorin stared for another minute. "And we're just supposed to trust that we'll see my nephew and the map again?" he asked.

"I don't see that you have all that much of a choice, Thorin," Bilbo replied dryly. "Unless you have some better idea for finding the door."

Thorin screwed up his face but couldn't come up with the better idea that he was desperately looking for. "And my other nephew? Is he going to be held captive there while they go on this fool errand?"

"Didn't mention," Bilbo said. "You know, nobody is trying to betray you. That wouldn't help Thranduil get his son back. And that is all that he cares about."

"You don't know him like I do," Thorin said as he walked across his room to stare out of the window at the crowd of Elves he'd grown up trapped behind.

Bilbo snorted. "I think I know him a bit better than you seeing how I've actually met and spoken with him," the Hobbit replied. "It's sort of hard to know someone without that. Letters just aren't the same."

Thorin turned just enough to cast a glare at the Hobbit, who didn't seem all that affected. "Just whose side are you on?" he grumbled unhappily.

"Legolas'," Bilbo replied instantly. "He's the one that hasn't done anything in this, far as I can tell."

There was a knock on the door, preventing Thorin from responding to that. "Come in," he called as he turned away from the window. Balin and Ori, the latter of which was carrying a thick book in his hands, hurried into the room and closed the door firmly behind them. "You found something?"

"We have," Balin agreed as Ori put the book on the table in the room and flipped it open to somewhere in the middle. The pages of the book cracked with each movement and sounded as if the binding was about to give out any second. "Hral left a notation in one of his diagrams about the original machine that he was using to base his own designs on. That led us to this book of plans from Tumunzahar. This one says it was commissioned by Angband."

"Angband?" Thorin echoed in surprise. Why by Durin's beard would any Dwarf make anything for _Angband_ of all places?

"Yes, we were surprised too," Ori said as he carefully flipped another page. "But here're the plans we think he used and they are dated for FA 509." Thorin couldn't help but cringe a little. That meant that it was after that mess with Thingol. Perhaps that explained why Dwarves would be taken in by Angband.

Balin folded his arms over his chest in disapproval. "There are a few notations about the idea being provided by some 'honored guest' that sounds incredibly suspect. I bet my beard it was someone deep in the dark powers..."

"Nobody with good intentions," Thorin muttered in agreement as he looked down at the detailed diagrams. He wasn't a terrible engineer although he had spent most of his apprentice years in learning blacksmithing and swordsmanship. Unfortunately, his barely journeyman status in engineering wasn't enough to fully understand the blueprints on display in front of him. Whoever had originally designed the Elven Torture Contraption (as he'd started calling it in his mind) had been many levels above Thorin. Perhaps even as clever as their greatest craftsmen. Might have even been one of them for all he knew since, strangely enough, the blueprints had no signature. Apparently, even when the machine was first designed nobody had wanted to claim ownership of such a thing.

"Does it tell us how to get him out of there?" Thorin asked as he looked up at Balin.

"Not... directly," Balin said uneasily.

Thorin frowned. "What do you mean 'not directly'?"

Balin sighed. "There's instructions for getting 'the remains' out again... but nothing about getting the Elf out while they were still alive."

"Well, that's not going to work," Bilbo said with no small amount of horror.

"No, it's not," Thorin agreed. "Any other clues?"

"Not any we could find but perhaps getting Bifur and Bofur to look at them might give us a hint or two. They're more used to diagrams such as these."

Thorin frowned but nodded. He couldn't help but think that even getting Bifur and Bofur to study the plans would not yield much information. They dealt with small harmless things, and not room sized torture devices commissioned by dark powers. These plans were a lot more complicated and far grimmer than any children's toys.

"Do these plans say anything about that gemstone that was in the room?" Bilbo asked curiously as he leaned over to peer over Thorin’s shoulder.

Thorin blinked and looked over at the Hobbit in surprise. He had honestly almost forgotten about that strange glowing stone that was lighting up the room as bright as day. He'd been much more consumed with the Elf Prince, than with figuring out what the white gem had been. Balin shook his head with a frown. "No, there's nothing about any gem stones in any of these plans. It must have been something they added."

"It doesn't seem a natural gem, does it?" Bilbo mused thoughtfully. "I wonder what it's for."

"It's definitely not natural," Thorin grunted. Natural gems, even the most brilliant, did not glow from with their own light and shine like a captive star. Thorin blinked as that thought sunk in fully and a realization came to him. "Oh... it's the Elf."

"What's the Elf, Thorin?" Balin asked.

All three of them looked very confused. "Aren't Elves supposed to glow like the gem does?" Thorin asked.

"That what legend says," Ori supplied.

"Well, the Elf hardly shines but that jewel certainly does," Thorin said with a jerk of his head towards the center of the mountain. "Unlikely it's not connected, don't you think?"

"So, you think maybe if we find out more about the jewel we'll be able to figure out how to remove Legolas?" Bilbo asked.

"Not find out how to remove him, lad," Balin said, an understanding starting to dawn on him. "But how to keep anyone from knowing we have for a while. If whatever is in that gem is the same power running the mountain it could take over for Legolas while we get him free."

"Well, that's wonderful news!" Bilbo exclaimed. "How do we do that?"

Thorin scowled at the blueprints in front of him again. After a moment, he looked over at Balin and Ori. "Find out what you can about that stone. We need to find a way to use it as a substitute for the Prince."

"Maybe it's time to ask Old Rugnar about all this," Dwalin, who had been lingering nearby silent until then, said. "I'm sure we could get him to tell us the truth," he added as he ran his thumb over one of his metal clad knuckles.

"No," Thorin said. "Not yet anyway. Rugnar goes to my father to report every few days... if he stops showing up, then we might be discovered. We'll find out all we can from the records before confronting Rugnar." Because if they confronted Rugnar, Thorin had little doubt they’d have to at least keep him held somewhere to not raise the alarm.

Dwalin didn't look remotely happy about that. "It'd be faster to just ask..." he grumbled.

"Faster, Brother, but we can't afford to make mistakes," Balin pointed out. "Thorin is right. There's still a few more books and scrolls to look through. We'll get all the information we can from the records first before we risk showing that we know."

Dwalin still didn't look too happy. He much preferred a more straightforward approach to problem-solving. Give him something to hit with his fist or axe. He'd fix everything right quick then. But no, they had the Elf to consider and complicate everything. Never mind the fact that all of this was to help him, Dwalin didn’t like the hindrance.

* * *

Legolas tried to find a comfortable position on his makeshift mattress but was unable to. His back was one massive pain of pulling and cramping and soreness. Any movement of the hideous tubes in his back made his vision flash with sudden jolts of pain, so he did his best to make any change small enough to not jostle them. 

Legolas really would rather be asleep right then, but he couldn't manage it. Every so often during his captivity, he had these long periods of wakefulness, and he hated them.

After several minutes of gathering his strength, he pushed himself up partially so that he could grab the drink that had been left for him. Legolas paused halfway through the motion and stared at his hand. For a long time, Legolas had been unable to see himself, and since being taken down from the shackles, he'd avoided doing so on purpose. So he was shocked to see that his nail beds were turning a sickeningly yellow-green shade. His nails were too long and sharp-looking. If it weren't for the indisputable fact that the hand was attached to his arm, Legolas would deny it was even his. The limb looked too foul to belong to one of the Firstborn.

Legolas curled his hand into a fist and lowered it uneasily. Unconsciously, he found the handle of the Dwarven boot knife beside him with his hand, and he looked down to study it for several long minutes. With some effort, Legolas tore his eyes away from the dagger and reached up to run his alien-looking hand through his hair in agitation. He wasn't fond of the feel of his grimy hair or the way the motion pulled at his back wounds, but he couldn't help doing it anyway. He knew he could not do anything yet. Alerting the rest of the mountain would prove his undoing, but he wanted oh so badly to use the blade and free himself from his prison.

Very slowly Legolas laid back down and tried again to relax. He just wanted to sleep again. To return to that beautiful illusion that made the endless hours pass just a little bit faster. He wished that Gimli were there. At least then there would be someone to talk and listen to. Legolas was far from the best company right now, but Gimli did his utmost best to ignore that. The silence in the room seemed oppressive now that he was alone. 

Legolas sighed and tried once again to get comfortable despite it being a futile way to spend his precious little energy. He frowned after a moment when he realized he felt something thin stuck along his stick-like fingers. He brought his hand up and something deep inside of him, at his very core, went ice cold. There, tangled around his digits were long strands of his own golden hair. Only a few strands had come free of his head, but that was plenty to horrify him. That ice cold horror slowly morphed into a black rage even as Legolas forced himself to lower his hand. He hated them so very much. More than he would ever be able to describe. His hand still with strands of his own hair tangled around the fingers, curled around the handle of the dagger tightly.


	43. Chapter 43

The blade was quite sharp, which was very good. He didn’t have the same strength that he used to have, and so a sharp blade made the work easier. The blade was comfortable to hold, and as he turned the knife in his hand, he watched how the light reflected off the steel.

He flipped the knife, but fumbled and dropped it to the ground. He cursed how clumsy his fingers now were and reached for the worn smooth handle again. After picking up the blade again, he brought down against his target. The pale surface split apart without hardly any resistance. Bright pink flesh spread out from the slice like a gruesome butterfly. Ruby red blood welled up and then overflowed from the cut until it dribbled down to land on the floor. He ignored the mess and brought the blade down again in another smooth and controlled line. Luckily, he wasn’t squeamish at all.

As he bent down over the second cut that was quickly welling up with blood, the lights began to flicker. The old Dwarf looked up from the elderly goat that he was butchering to stare at the ceiling. That was odd. Never before had the lights done that in all his years in the mountain.

* * *

Gimli tried to not rush as he ate his breakfast. Although his Father knew why he was so eager to go to work, he wasn’t supposed to yet tell his mother, which meant not worrying her about his new sleeping and eating habits. Not rushing to go keep Legolas company was much harder than he would have thought it would be. Despite everything Legolas actually was quite entertaining to speak with, especially when he wasn’t feeling awful. Well, relatively awful, Gimli supposed.

Gimli was even more excited than usual to go see Legolas. He had been wracking his brain all night long for some way to cheer the Elf even a little bit, and he was fairly certain that he’d finally landed on something suitable. He would need Lady Dís’ assistance but it would definitely be worth it to grant Legolas a little bit of comfort.

The logistics of sneaking even a small tub of water for washing into Legolas’ prison had Gimli scratching his head, but he knew it could be done. So far they had managed to sneak in a makeshift mattress, regular meals, and medical supplies to the Elf. Surely some wash things wouldn’t be that much harder. Gimli made his way towards the Royal Quarter and Lady Dís’ Rooms. Having long ago given up her own personal claim to the throne Lady Dís had a set of rooms closer to the beginning of the Royal Quarter rather than just down the hall from her Father’s rooms like Prince Thorin’s were. Kíli and Fíli had rooms right smack between Dís and Thorin probably by virtue of needing to be watched.

Gimli knocked on the door to Lady Dís’ room and waited there for several minutes. The young Dwarf was just starting to get anxious when the door opened to reveal the lovely Dwarrowdam. “Gimli, what an unexpected surprise… is everything alright?”

“Yes, I just need your help with something,” Gimli said.

Dís hummed a little before nodding and stepping to the side. “Come in, Gimli. We wouldn’t want to have this sort of discussion in the hall, I don’t think.” Gimli did as he was told and entered the main sitting room of the Princess’ rooms. Only when the door was closed again did Dís speak again. “I assume this has something to do with Legolas, the Elf?”

“Yes,” Gimli agreed. “He’s been very depressed lately.”

“I think that understandable,” Dís said as she took a seat in a large chair by the fire.

Gimli nodded. “Yes, but I think I’ve thought up something that might help him cheer up just a little.”

“Oh?”

“He keeps complaining about his hair. And it has to have been a while since he’s been able to wash up at all. I was thinking we could bring him something to at least do that,” Gimli explained. “I’m just… not sure how to do it.”

Dís hummed thoughtfully at that. “Well, there are a few things that we will definitely need,” she mused. “It shouldn’t take too long to gather them up. I’ll get the others to help me move it into the chamber. Until then you should-”

Just then the light on Dís desk flickered, and a strange noise echoed from some distant part of the mountain. Gimli frowned and looked around. “What’s that?” he asked uneasily. The lights flickered again, and a sense of dread filled the young guardsman. “I have to go,” Gimli said as he turned back towards the door. He wasn’t sure what was going on exactly, but he had the worst feeling that something had happened to Legolas.

* * *

Thorin sighed and scribbled on the map of Erebor that he had in front of him. He might have to take the wizard’s idea despite hating it. They had been discreetly checking all the places that Thorin could think of for a hidden door to be located and still had found nothing. Dwarven doors being invisible most of the time and having no indication at all if it even could be opened from the inside left the search even more frustrating than the crowned Prince could have expected. Thorin had been pouring over maps for the past week looking for any notation at all that might help and was still coming up very empty handed. 

"Not going very well?"

Thorin looked up from the maps that were covering his desk to see the Hobbit leaning over the other side and peering at the papers curiously. "Not really," Thorin said. "Hidden features of a mountain are not often put in maps of said mountain."

"Mm, no, I suppose they wouldn't be," Bilbo mused, still looking down at the various different cross sections and level diagrams of Erebor. He seemed fairly absorbed in reading the maps, from what Thorin could tell, and had a cute little frown on his face. "You know, maybe you're going about this the wrong way."

Thorin blinked a few times to pull his attention away from how Bilbo's sharp eyes caught the light from the nearby candles. "How do you mean?"

Bilbo looked up from the maps then. "Well, there are plenty of places inside the mountain that we can get to but how many places outside of the mountain would be reachable?" he asked. "That could narrow the search quite a bit."

"That's very clever, Master Baggins," Thorin muttered as he looked back down at the maps. Bilbo was right. There weren't that many places that could be easily reached from the outside and so not many possible locations for a door to be. "I wish we could see the outside of the mountain. That would make this much easier."

"Perhaps the Elves can look from their side," Bilbo suggested.

Thorin couldn't help but scoff. "They wouldn't be able to see a Dwarf door."

"Well, what harm could having them look do?" Bilbo asked back. 

“Even if they could find it, which, I doubt that they can,” Thorin began, “They would have to climb the mountain to even find it. And my Father is sure to notice that of all things.” Erebor may not have many defenses besides her own mass left, but there were still enough to keep the Elves from climbing all over them. Thranduil probably knew it too, which was why he hadn’t yet sent his troops closer to the mountain.

“What if they do it in the dark?”

“Then it would be even harder for them to spot the blasted thing,” Thorin said, slightly exasperated.

Bilbo frowned thoughtfully. “What if I go look then?”

“That would take far too long,” Thorin answered. “Not to mention the extreme danger in it. The Elves aren’t going to stop battering the mountain just because you’re looking for a secret entrance. Any one of those boulders could squash you like a bug.”

Bilbo straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, we certainly aren’t making much progress this way, Thorin, with you staring at maps that don’t say anything helpful.” Thorin sighed and sat back in his chair. He wasn’t exactly willing to say that Bilbo had a point, although he did. “Are you going to send the map with your nephew to Lord Elrond?” Bilbo asked.

“You’re infuriating when you think you’re right,” Thorin muttered.

“And you’re infuriating when you’re being stubborn for no reason,” Bilbo shot back.

Thorin straightened fully. “This is my people’s heritage. Our secrets have protected us for thousands of years.”

Bilbo looked distinctly unimpressed. “Your secrets have also led to an innocent Elf being slowly tortured to death in this mountain,” he pointed out with a remarkably neutral tone considering the topic. Before Thorin could respond, a strange sound echoed from a distant part of the mountain. "What's that?" Bilbo asked.

Thorin got up from his chair and went quickly to the door. The lights in the hall, which were powered exclusively from a certain captive Elf, flickered. Bilbo was suddenly beside the Prince. "Thorin?"

"What has that fool Elf done?" Thorin demanded before hurrying down the corridor. The lights flickered even more, and the noise further inside the mountain rumbled again. Thorin was positive that was the sound of the forges struggling to stay lit with a faltering supply of fuel.

"Thorin!"

Thorin caught a glimpse of Balin and Dwalin hurrying towards him from a different corridor. "Dwalin, get Óin!" Thorin couldn't be sure what the Elf had done, but he could at least assume that it wasn't anything healthy. Not knowing what would happen if the Elf was disconnected was the whole reason they hadn't done it yet.

"Right!" Dwalin ran down a different path while Balin managed to keep pace with Thorin.

"What's happened, Thorin?" Balin asked.

Thorin shook his head. "I don't know, but it can't be good! The whole mountain is losing power."

"Won't this alert the King?" Bilbo asked a few paces behind the Dwarves.

"That's why we have to hurry," Thorin said as he skipped over almost half of a staircase from how quickly he was moving. If the King arrived to check on his prisoner and found him no longer hanging from the ceiling and blinded, things would become nearly impossible to fix. Thorin wasn't sure what his father would do exactly, but he knew their only chance to sneak Legolas out would be lost.

The fact that Legolas needed help to get to his current position would prompt the King to be far more secure with their livelihood. Most likely with plenty of guards that Thorin would never be able to ascertain the loyalty of, thereby ruining their plans. They had to stop the power fluctuations as quickly as possible. 

As the group of them hurried to the chamber, Thorin noticed that the lights kept sputtering and struggling to stay lit. The Crowned Prince really hoped that the idiot Elf hadn’t lost patience and tried to cut the cables from his back on his own. There was no telling what sort of repercussions such an action would have. More than a few Dwarves that they passed had quite clearly taken note of the power failures, and Thorin’s hope of taking care of this before his Father found out was looking to be more and more unlikely.

Thorin was the first to reach the golden door that hid the Heart Chamber and fumbled with his key for a moment. The others were right behind him and crowding the narrow hall. Finally, Thorin managed to get the key in and the door unlocked. The group of Dwarves and one Hobbit burst into the brightly lit cell without even the slightest ounce of caution and were brought up short by what they found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An evil place to stop I know... but the next chapter is a switched POV and I'd already switched enough in this chapter. I'll try to make the next update quick so you don't have to wait too long. Promise.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! This chapter might be TRIGGERING for some people as it contains brief Self-harm. If this is uncomfortable for you please skim down to when Gimli is first mentioned!

Legolas swallowed hard as he stared down at his discolored hand holding the sharp Dwarven boot knife. Something unsavory was happening to him, and he didn't know how to stop it. He wanted to cut the cords from his back, but he knew, despite not wanting to admit it, that the Dwarves were right. He couldn't just carve his own back apart and rip out the offending cords. There was no telling the damage he would do to himself if he took such drastic measures. 

Legolas still needed to do something. Anxiety was building in his chest, and his heart was thundering. His pulse made the spikes within his back more painful, and he struggled to calm down. Legolas took a deep breath but was unable to take another for the pain it caused him.

A different thought occurred to the Woodland Prince as he stared at the knife in his hand. Even if his body was disfigured, all wasn't yet lost. He pulled his blanket to the side and brought the sharp metal to his inner thigh. Carefully, he cut through his own skin.

Legolas was relieved to see the ruby red flow out from the long but shallow cut. Orcs had blood that was black as tar from their own corrupted bodies. The evil within them had rotted their very body and souls and tainted their blood. If Legolas' blood was still red and pure, then all was not lost.

He watched intently for several seconds, but there was no trace of black. Still, he had to be certain. He took the knife and sliced through his skin again right beside the first cut. The blood that welled up was again bright red. A third was more of the same, and he finally felt the anxiety abate. 

His blood was still red therefore his condition could still be fixed. Legolas reached for the bandages that Óin had left behind and quickly tended to his cuts. He felt a little ashamed to have injured himself, but he had to check. Even if it had eased his fears, Legolas certainly didn’t want anyone to see the cuts he had made. Óin would most likely get upset with him, so it was best to just keep the wounds concealed. He hadn’t known the healer long, but he already didn’t look forward to a scolding from him. Legolas already knew that he shouldn’t have taken a knife to his own flesh, but he couldn’t deny it had helped so he’d rather not be scolded for it on top of that.

Legolas wiped the blood off the knife on the underside of his blanket. His anxiety was strangely relieved now that he had cut himself, and that was worrisome in a different way, but Legolas didn't allow himself to think about what such a thing might mean. The faint throbbing feeling from his leg where he had cut and then tightly bound the wounds wasn't much, especially compared to the constant agony that was his back, but the sting that was still there reminded him that he was, in fact, still an Elf. 

But now that his anxiety was abated, however unhealthily, Legolas was tired. He carefully laid down again and pulled his blanket up over himself. As he tried to slip off to Reverie, he hoped that he would have a visitor in his Sanctuary. He really shouldn't wish that, considering how dangerous it was for a mortal to venture into his dreams, but Legolas couldn't help the desire for company. For centuries he had been isolated with nothing but pain and darkness and now he very much hated being alone.

Even if Gimli would just sit there and ramble about things that Legolas didn't understand nor care about, it was far more desirable than the crushing solitude. Gimli's warm deep rumbling voice was soothing to listen to. Gimli took his mind off of his own situation in a way that nothing else he’d tried had managed to do. 

Despite Legolas’ general lack of success in distracting himself, Gimli was not at the moment here so the Woodland Prince would at least go to where he couldn’t feel the pain as sharply. He wasn't as successful as he would have liked. His mind kept being pulled back to the present and a very annoying ringing noise that he was hearing. Between the bright light of the room and the incessant ringing, Legolas quickly developed a painful ache in his skull. Right along the top of his head, he felt as if a drill were slowly but surely auguring through his bone.

Legolas groaned and tried to shift to bury his face in the pillow beneath him. At least then the light would be cut down and therefore, he hoped, the pain. But Legolas quickly found that didn't help and began to tremble. The shaking wouldn't stop no matter how Legolas tried to relax and accept the headache. His whole body tensed awkwardly, pulling around the spikes in his back and locking his joints into unnatural angles. Lights of thousands of colors flashed across his vision and all across the mountain the energy supply faltered. 

A whine of pain escaped the Elf as he tried to get some manner of control over his own body again. He couldn't manage it and spasmed painfully, nearly tearing his own back apart as the tubes didn't want to move with him. Legolas' vision flashed again and then went entirely dark. 

He felt pain in his mouth and tasted blood as his jaw clenched at the wrong time, and he bit his own tongue. Legolas spasmed again, more violently than before, and he felt several large, strong hands grab him. Legolas was far too consumed with how his body was acting entirely on its own to realize who was grabbing him and holding him down. There was someone shouting something at him, but listening was beyond the Elf Prince at the moment. 

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime of uncontrolled spasms and pain bouncing around his skull, Legolas felt his body relaxing. "Easy there, laddie," the familiar voice of Óin said as Legolas tried to regain his bearings.

"What happened?" Prince Thorin demanded.

"Looks to be a seizure," Óin replied. "Pour the lad some of that tea there, Bombur."

Legolas turned his head further and spat the blood in his mouth out. He didn't like the copper tinge he could still taste so when Óin helped him up just enough to take a sip of the herbal remedy, Legolas was glad. Even if it did pull on his back. "Has this happened before?" Óin asked Legolas.

Legolas just shook his head, not trusting his voice to remain steady. As he lay back down, he noticed that other than Óin, Bombur, and Thorin, many other members of their little conspiracy had been brought to his prison by what had happened. Dwalin and Balin were both there, as was Glóin and the fussy Dori who had gotten Legolas something to actually rest his aching body on.

"What would have caused such a thing?" Thorin asked.

"It's hard to say for certain, but I would assume it's something to do with the metal spikes in his back draining his life away," Óin answered.

Thorin would have had a reply for that, but Legolas batted at Óin's hands. "I'm no invalid," he grumbled. "And I can hear you just fine."

"No offense meant, your princeliness," Óin said, not sounding all that sorry or concerned about Legolas' less than amiable mood. "Here, you should drink some more of the tea. It should help with the headache you no doubt have, at the very least."

Legolas would have given a scathing reply to that, but his head did hurt so decided to hold off for the moment. He could always dress the Dwarves down later. Legolas wasn't so fond of being helped to sit up by Óin and Bombur. They tried to be careful in lifting him, but they weren't as skilled at doing it as Gimli was. Their arms were too thick to not jostle at least a few of the tubes in his back.

Legolas sipped at the tea carefully even as he worried over the newest development. Before he could think about it too much, however, the door to the chamber opened, and Legolas heard a familiar bellow of anger. "What is Durin's name is this!?" Legolas couldn't help the flinch even as Thráin son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain, stormed into the chamber.

"Father," Thorin began, but he didn't get a chance to say much else.

"How dare you enter this chamber without permission! And what do you think you're doing interfering with the prisoner!" Thráin demanded even as several of his most trusted guards came into the room.

"Prisoner?" Thorin echoed. "This is hardly the way to treat a prisoner!"

Thráin's face turned bright red in anger. "He is the reason for your brother's death, Thorin!" he accused, pointing at Legolas with the finger that bore the ring he had inherited from his father.

"I somehow doubt that this Elf sought out Frerin and made the tunnel he was in collapse, father," Thorin said. "Thranduil is only still attacking us because we are keeping him. Let him go! Whatever slight he may have done must be paid ten times over by now." Thorin was hoping beyond hope that his reasoning would break through whatever sickness plagued his father.

"Let him go?" Thráin echoed, sounding utterly bewildered. "Why in all of Middle Earth would I do that?"

Thorin frowned. "Because it is not right. We are honorable Dwarves, Father!"

"My King, our people, cannot survive in this mountain forever," Balin said calmly, stepping forward to draw attention away from Thorin for a moment. "Returning the Elf would be the best for our people."

Thráin's expression darkened even more. "Do not presume to tell me what is best for our people, Balin!" he growled. "I know what I am doing! We need him to run our forges and provide us with food and warmth."

"Father, this is insanity!" Thorin argued. "We would not need him to do that if we were not being beset by the Elfking!" The logic simply wasn't there. 

"You waste your breath, Oakenshield," Legolas said as he found his knife in his bedding. "Your father is just as mad as his father before him. All they see is their own greedy desires."

Thráin took a step forward but was brought up short by Dwalin shifting imposingly into the way. Thráin glared at the larger and younger Dwarf before fixing Legolas with a spiteful look. "Your mouth is not something I have missed, Elf. My misguided son should never have left you ungagged."

"You dislike the truth, Son of Thrór," Legolas replied. "You are a greedy, pathetic, little creature who cannot take responsibility for his own messes. The reason that your son is dead, is because of you and your father. Not me. You do not care if your people suffer and that you would use them as your excuse to keep me is pathetic and false."

Thráin 's face had gone from just red to a dangerous looking shade of purple. "Guards!" he roared. "Silence that Elf and arrest these traitors!" he snapped, swiping his hand towards all of the ones across from him.

"We aren't traitors!" Dwalin protested.

"Any who go against their King is guilty of treason!" Thráin snapped. "Arrest them!" The guards hesitated for a few heartbeats before they started towards the group of conspirators. 

Almost instantly a scuffle broke out. Legolas was abandoned as even Bombur and Óin had to defend themselves from being grabbed by the royal guard. Dwalin held nothing back and roared as he punched one of his own men dead in the face. Legolas shifted as best he could to avoid getting caught between the wrestling Dwarves. One guard reached to grab Legolas by the arm, but the captured Elf was having none of that. His blade flashed in the bright light of the chamber, and ruby red blood sprayed as Legolas stabbed the Dwarf through a gap in the armor around his thigh.

The Dwarven Guard let out a cry of pain and collapsed back even as Legolas jerked his blade free and slashed at another guard that was attempting to get too close. Óin elbowed another guard in the face while Bombur used his significant bulk to knock two guards down at once.

Thorin's comrades were not incapable of fighting and, in the case of Dwalin, were some of the best in the entire mountain. But pure numbers could overwhelm even the best fighters, and it certainly didn't help that the Dwarves didn't really want to hurt their own people in the scuffle. Legolas didn't have as much restraint but he was also severely handicapped, and it didn't take very long for his knife to be wrenched out of his hand. Legolas did not let his lack of a knife stop him from struggling and fighting back, however. 

The fight lasted for several more minutes until one Dwarf grabbed one of the cords coming from Legolas' back and pulled. The Elf shrieked in pain, bringing the whole fight to an abrupt standstill. Legolas fell to the bed in tears to clutch at the fabric and struggled to catch his breath. "Come quietly, or I will be forced to rip it out," Thráin ordered.

Legolas tried to not show how painful having the cord tugged had been, but when it was given another short tug he couldn't help the second scream it caused. "Stop that!" Óin snapped. "You'll cause more damage!"

"I'll stop when you stand down," Thráin said firmly.

Legolas managed to look up through his lank hair and saw an irate group of Dwarves lower their fists and relax their stances. He wasn't sure if he was grateful or annoyed that they gave into the King's demands. Several Dwarves came forward and grabbed him roughly by each arm to haul him up off the mattress. Thráin came into Legolas' sight. "I hope you enjoyed your little rebellion while it lasted, Elf. Because you won't get a chance at a second."

"You will not escape this unscathed, Thráin," Legolas promised.

"I do not need to escape, Princeling. With you, we can live here indefinitely," the Dwarven King claimed.

"Father-"

"Quiet, Thorin!" Thráin snapped. "I would not have expected this sort of betrayal from my own son!"

Thorin's face darkened. "It is not betrayal, Father. I only care about our people and ending this assault that is pointless!" he tried again to reason. "You're killing the Elf and then what? We will just die after him!"

"You're wrong about that, Thorin," Thráin said, seemingly very smug. "I have already planned for all possibilities, not that it is any of your business. A traitor like you doesn't need to know our plans. Take them away. I will deal with them later. And secure the Elf!"

Legolas was not going to just allow himself to be taken and demeaned again by his position as a captive. He had at least a little bit of his ability to fight still. He struggled to stay out of their grasp and did everything he could possibly manage so that he would remain free for at least another few seconds. Legolas even went so far as to bite one of the Dwarves hard enough to taste his blood.

Unfortunately, even with how savagely he struggled it wasn’t sufficient to keep himself from being soundly overpowered by the Dwarven guards; especially, with such a handicap as excruciating cords coming from his back. Legolas was strangely proud of the fact that even being so disadvantaged, his captors still found him to be enough of a handful that hitting him over the head was preferable to struggling with him. Even as his already aching head was hit hard enough to make his vision flash and shake unsteadily, he tried to pull away from them. He knew it was useless, but he couldn’t help but try. Legolas fell to the mattress as his consciousness fled and hoped that somehow, despite this, when he opened his eyes he would not be hanging from the ceiling and blindfolded with those horrible masks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to announce a milestone for me... the phrases 'Though' and 'a bit' do not appear in this chapter, lol. I'm really trying PaperTigress! Really!


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was an interesting chapter for me... I knew what I wanted to write but it still decided to not be easy for me to actually get out. But here it is!

"Wait, Gimli!" Dís said, grabbing Gimli's arm before he could rush down the corridor to get to the Heart Chamber. Before Gimli could do more than squawk in protest, Dís had pulled him behind a large statue of Durin. Thráin was coming from the other direction with almost two-dozen heavily armed guards.

"They're going to the chamber," Gimli hissed. "We can't let them go in there!"

"We have to," Dís said. "They outnumber us too greatly, Gimli."

Gimli scowled but knew that Dís was right. He didn't want her to be right, but she was. The pair of them watched from their hiding spot as the King, and his men went down the narrow corridor to where Legolas was kept. "They'll know someone found him," Gimli muttered mostly to himself. "We're never going to get him free now." Legolas' pathetic excuse of a prison hadn't even had a blanket in it when they'd found him. 

"Don't be so pessimistic yet, Glóin's son," Dís replied as she watched the end of the corridor. "They can't move him from there without upsetting the running of Erebor. We still have a chance until they manage to reroute the cables to a different spot and who knows how long that'll take them."

"Not long enough," Gimli grumbled.

"Agreed. We're going to have to find somewhere to hide him without my father finding out," Dís said.

Nori would no doubt have a few hiding places he could donate to keeping Legolas hidden. The problem was that they would then have most likely only a matter of weeks to then get Legolas out of the mountain before they were found and they still had no clue how to do that part. "What's taking them so long?' Gimli asked without particularly expecting an answer. 

Apprehension was building quickly in the two Dwarrows as they watched for any sign of the King's men leaving. As they watched, Gimli and Dís were startled to see Bilbo slipping out of the hallway quickly. "Bilbo! Over here!" Gimli hissed as the Hobbit looked around. When the burglar's eyes landed on them, relief swept over his face, and Bilbo hurried over to their hiding spot behind the statue.

"How were you in there?" Dís asked as they pulled him into the shadows. "And how did you get past my father?"

"Thorin and the others," Bilbo said, glancing over his shoulder at the dimly lit corridor he'd just left. "We were checking on Legolas, he's had some sort of fit, and then Thráin burst in, and now they're all fighting!"

Dís' eyes widened, and she looked past the Hobbit to the entrance as well. "Thorin's in there?" she echoed in alarm. "How many are with him?"

"Misters Dwalin, Balin, Óin, Dori, and Bombur," Bilbo supplied, still looking behind him anxiously. "But I didn't stop to see what was going on. I'm not much of a fighter."

"Understandable," Dís said. "But they have a much better chance than we did an-"

The lights flickered overhead briefly, and all three of them froze to see if the power fluctuation would repeat. Gimli gripped the side of the statue tightly to keep himself from rushing down the corridor towards Legolas' cell. The Elf was in no condition for being embroiled in a fight of any kind.

After several minutes, there was movement within the corridor. Dís pulled them further back into the shadows where they wouldn't be seen even as several guards entered the better lit hall with a thunderously unhappy Thorin between them. Bilbo almost made a noise of protest but was quickly silenced behind Dís' hand. "How did they beat Thorin _and_ Dwalin?" Gimli demanded in a hiss.

"Shh," Dís scolded as their friends and family were escorted through the hall. Thráin wasn't among them, and that worried Gimli immensely. Once the group was past the trio's hiding spot, Dís released her hold over Bilbo's mouth. "Follow them, Master Baggins. Make sure you know which cells they're being put in and then come find me in my rooms," she said.

Bilbo looked like he wanted to protest but then nodded and slipped off to follow the group deeper into the mountain. Gimli looked back at the hidden passage. "We need to get in there and get Legolas out," he said. There would be fewer guards now.

"My father is still in there," Dís said. "And he's formidable all on his own."

"We can't just-"

Dís pulled Gimli into the shadows again as one guard came running out of the Heart Chamber's corridor. The guard looked around once or twice before taking off in a hurry. "I wonder where he's running off to," Dís muttered. "Gimli. I need you to go get the others. Have them all meet in my rooms."

"But Legolas-"

"Won't be moved right away. We have to get everyone together so that we can break him out without alerting my father even more," Dís reasoned. Usually, Gimli appreciated when Lady Dís (and to a lesser extent Fíli) was able to keep a level head in a crisis but right that moment he didn't want to do anything but burst into the Heart Chamber and make sure they weren't hurting the Elf worse. "Gimli!"

Gimli scowled but then nodded. "Yes, Lady Dís. I'll get them," he grumbled before carefully slipping from their hiding spot. He would have to get his father first. Considering who was caught in Legolas' chamber, Gimli figured his father would be first on the list of Dwarrow that Thráin would want to question. Everyone knew that his father and uncle were always in the thick of each other's business. 

Dís stayed in her hiding spot beside Durin's statue. She would have expected her father to have left by now, but he hadn't, and that was worrisome. Considering the condition of Legolas hadn't, to her understanding, _greatly_ improved Dís was anxious that Thráin would do something the Elf would not easily recover from. She'd never known Thráin to have a violent streak, but she no longer trusted her own evaluation of her father. Before this, Dís wouldn't have thought her father had a vindictive streak either.

After perhaps fifteen minutes, Dís finally saw the guard return this time with Rugnar the Master Lantern Maker in tow. Rugnar looked out of breath and struggling to keep up with the much younger Dwarf. Dís didn't at all like that Rugnar had been called to the Heart Chamber. Once Rugnar had disappeared into the dimly lit hall, Dís reluctantly left her hiding spot to go back to her rooms. They had to get Legolas out of her father's hands, and they had to do it as soon as they physically could.

With everyone scattered around the mountain, Gimli had to search more than he wanted to tell the conspirators where to assemble. Over an hour had passed by the time they had gathered, and still, Bilbo had yet to return. Dís hoped that nothing had happened to the little Hobbit although, he did seem to have a knack for avoiding being seen, that one time he'd been caught by the Urs notwithstanding. Even though Bilbo had not yet returned to tell them where the captured members of their group were, Dís decided to tell the others what had happened at the Chamber.

"Dori's been arrested?" Nori echoed. "Well, tha' is a switch..."

"Nori, now's not the time for making fun of Dori," Ori murmured as he fiddled with the end of his scarf. 

"This is ridiculous!" Glóin protested. "Thráin can't just throw them all in a dungeon like this!"

Bofur frowned. "He is the King," he pointed out uneasily. "Pretty sure he can throw anyone he wants, anywhere he wants. Seeing how he's in charge an' all."

Glóin looked over at the miner with annoyance. "Thank you, tha's really helpful, Bofur," he growled.

"Calm down, all of you," Dís said where she was sitting in her favorite armchair. "I already sent Bilbo to find out where they were put. Once we know that, we can figure out what to do to get them out. I'm more worried about Legolas. Father called Rugnar to the Chamber, and that can't be for any good reason."

"The newest chamber isn't anywhere near ready for a lantern yet," Bofur said. The still had plenty of carving and clearing to do before they could think about installing any part of the equipment for growing plants. There would be no reason for Rugnar to have been called since they weren't ready for his craft.

"I don't think my father cares about that," Dís admitted. "If they're going to move Legolas they'd have to reroute the cables... I imagine that would require his assistance at the very least. We have to remove Legolas from that room before then. Any ideas of places to hide him?"

Everyone turned eyes to Nori. "Why do ya always assume I've got all these sortsa answers?"

"Because you're you, Nori," Ori told his brother.

"Profilin's _wrong_ , ya know," Nori said as he adjusted his jacket indignantly. "Although... I may have a thought or two tha' might help now tha' ya mention it."

"He's going to need to be ready to be moved as soon as we get there though," Glóin pointed out. "Óin said removing the tubes'll be painful so we'd be best cutting them and hoping for the best."

That made most of the group frown. "So how are we going to warn him to be ready?" Ori asked nervously after several minutes of silence.

Gimli cleared his throat. "Um, I can. Get him a message that is," he said.

"How?" Glóin asked with his big bushy eyebrows drawing together.

The young Dwarf shifted his weight uneasily. There were a couple very distinct reasons he hadn't let anyone know he'd been sharing dreams with Legolas. First, he didn't even know how they worked so couldn't stop them. Second, his parents would not be happy about the possibility of him never waking up again. And third, it just seemed too personal to tell anyone else about. "Don't be mad-"

"That's not a good way to start this conversation, Gimli!"

"Glóin," Dís interrupted before the banker could really start. "Let him explain first.

Glóin huffed and folded his arms over his chest unhappily. Gimli still took it as his cue to start. "Before you get upset, neither Legolas or I know how it happens. He has this... enchantment he puts over himself while he's asleep to escape, I guess? Sort of like his happy place? Anyway, when I sleep sometimes I end up there too, and we talk a bit before one of us wakes up."

"Dream sharing," Ori muttered.

"And what's that?" Glóin asked, attention instantly drawn to the little librarian.

Ori shrunk back at the intensity of the gazes that were now fixed on him. "Um, it was just something I read when I was looking for Legolas' name. A-apparently, dream sharing runs in the royal family of Greenwood, but they almost never find anyone with a compatible enough mind to do it with so they consider it a mostly useless talent. It's really rare even within the Elven populace... I never would have thought a Dwarf would be able to do it."

"So, what exactly does it mean?" Dís asked.

"The passage didn't go into much detail," Ori said. "Only that it ran in their family and was rare. And something about... being open, I'm guessing something about your mindset." 

"And you said that you can talk to him while doing this, Gimli?" Dís asked looking away from Ori finally.

Gimli nodded. "Even better than when he's awake because he's not in pain or fighting to stay awake in his dreams."

"Then try and contact him that way and let him know we'll be getting him out of there as soon as we can," Dís said. "Bofur, Bifur. I have a job for you as well."

"Happy to help," Bofur said instantly.

"When Rugnar goes back to his quarters... please make sure he is brought here instead. I'd like a word or two with him," Dís ordered. There was less reason to be subtle now that Thorin had been caught red-handed and if they kept Rugnar away, perhaps they could delay anything worse happening to Legolas.

Bofur gave a broad smile that was a lot less comforting than it usually was. "It would be our absolute pleasure, Lady Dís," he said.

"Ol' Dwalin's goin' ta regret missing tha'," Nori said. "He's been lookin' ta hit Rugnar in the nose since his name first got brought up."

"Once we get him and my brother out of jail, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to make up for not being the one to collect him," Dís said. She turned to face the free members of the conspiracy. Almost half of them were imprisoned now, and they couldn't afford to lose anyone else. "The rest of you without a job to do, lay low. My father will not assume that he caught all of us just because he has Thorin. We need to be careful not to give him reason to lock us away as well."

There was a murmur of agreement from everyone. "We should try and contact Fíli and Kíli outside," Glóin suggested. "They can go to Dáin for help if things go further sideways."

"Dáin is a long ways off," Nori said with a frown. "We can't count on 'im ta arrive in time ta help, 'specially if we gotta send Fíli an' Kíli ta go get 'im." One of the most important rules of being a little less on the straight side was that you always had to know how far away any help was and if they would actually be able to help. Nori didn't consider the Iron Hills any sort of option that could be counted on, especially not with how quickly things were moving.

"We've got to have a backup plan somewhere," Glóin countered. "Even if it's not a very good one."

Gimli only listened with half an ear as the group debated their options. He was more distracted by the thought of what he would say to Legolas that night. Assuming, of course, that he could actually reach the sleeping Elf in his sanctuary to do so.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we say.... uh oh? 
> 
>  
> 
> I can

They went further into the mountain than Bilbo had thought they would go. Not only did they descend below the furnaces but they went down past the deepest growing chambers that had the oldest and dimmest lights. In the very bowels of the mountain the conspirators were shoved into a series of small stone, well Bilbo would have called them closets if not for the metal bars as thick as his arm across the front. Only once all of the unhappy Dwarves were locked into cells and the guards stormed off did Bilbo remove his ring and step out of the shadows. "Well, this is a fine mess," he whispered as he went to the cell Thorin occupied.

"Master Baggins, you did get loose," Thorin said. He had been worried when he realized that the Hobbit was nowhere to be seen during the fighting in the Heart Chamber.

"Yes, your sister sent me to see where you were being put," Bilbo said as he glanced after the guards. He didn't want to be caught down here. "Where even are we? I didn't think the mountain went this far down..."

"These are the old cells," Balin supplied from the cell behind Bilbo. The Hobbit turned halfway to look at the white-bearded Dwarf. "They were built when Erebor was still a small mountain village. They didn't want any prisoners kept too near the citizens."

Bilbo shrugged just slightly. "I... suppose that makes... sense," he admitted although prisons and the like weren't something Hobbits thought on very much. The worst they ever had in the Shire was bare-toed Fauntlings pilfering extra produce here and there to fill their stomachs. Nothing at all worth imprisoning over. "I have to go tell Lady Dís where you are. Will she know if I just say 'the old cells'?"

"Yes, Dís'll know," Thorin agreed. "My Father will probably have the keys with him. But you seem quite adept at sneaking around Erebor without being seen, Master Baggins. You really must tell us how after all this is done."

"Yes, well... we'll see about that," Bilbo said awkwardly. He didn't really want to tell anyone about the ring. He'd much rather keep that a secret. Bilbo hadn't even told Gandalf about it, and if he told anyone about a magical item, it would be a wizard. "Anyway, stay calm... we'll think of something. Undoubtedly, Lady Dís will have you out as soon as she can."

Bilbo was about to hurry off when Thorin suddenly stuck his hand through the bars and caught the Hobbit by the arm. Bilbo froze and turned back to the Crowned Prince. "Take care, Master Baggins. My father is growing worse and if he finds that Dís is helping us... I don't know what he'd do," Thorin said quietly. "Before this... I never would have thought he'd ever lock me away and he will not listen to reason."

Bilbo was drawn into the intensity of Thorin's blue eyes. Bilbo couldn't quite place what was causing Thorin's eyes to make him go slightly weak in the knees, but there was no denying that they did. The Hobbit nodded and gave a little smile. "We'll be careful. You just sit tight," he said before slipping his arm free and hurrying away.

"Well, what else could we do?" Dwalin grumbled, still very peeved by the loss of his weapons and being forced to surrender in the first place.

Bilbo didn't hear the sour-tempered Captain as he slipped his ring back on and scurried up the narrow stairs. He had to quickly duck to the side behind an armor rack as the guards came back down. Bilbo held his breath as they walked past even though he was invisible. Only once he stopped hearing their heavy boots on the stairs did Bilbo risk stepping out from behind the armor rack and continuing upwards.

Dodging Dwarves was becoming something of an automatic action from how long Bilbo had been moving around the mountain. He had also figured out where most of the important places were from getting lost dozens of times. So, when Bilbo walked past a workshop that he knew from his wandering made the lanterns, he couldn't help but notice how many Dwarves were bustling about and coming out of the door that he had to dodge.

Bilbo paused out of the way as he watched Rugnar's assistants rush every which way. They were shouting at each other in that Dwarvish language that Bilbo didn't know. He didn't like how active they all were. He just knew that they were up to something that would end poorly for the captive Elf. Bilbo wasn't sure how long he watched, but when he saw one Dwarf leave the workshop with long silver spikes that gleamed like polished daggers, the Hobbit's insides turned icy cold. "Oh no," he breathed before turning and hurrying. He had to get the others. He had no idea what they would be able to do, but Bilbo couldn't let things happen without at least trying something.

Bilbo ran all the way to Dís' chamber and only barely remembered to take off his ring so that he was visible before bursting in. "Bilbo!"

"We have a problem," Bilbo said, only barely realizing that quite a few people weren't actually there.

"Did you not find, Thorin?" Dís asked as she got to her feet.

Bilbo shook his head. "No, not that," he said. "Thorin and the others are fine... but as I was coming back, I passed the lantern workshop. And I saw a Dwarf taking an arm full of silver spikes somewhere."

The color drained from Dís' face. "What?"

"Silver spikes... long as my hand at least. Just like the kind that they said are all in Legolas' back," Bilbo clarified although he was mostly sure Dís had already made that connection. "We have to do something. We can't let them put more of those things in him."

Dís looked horrified. "I'm not sure how we can stop them..."

"But we can't just do nothing!"

"No... we won't do nothing," Dís agreed. "Go find Gimli and tell him what you saw. I'll find some way to distract my father."

Bilbo nodded and ran off to try and find the youngest conspirator. Dís stood there another moment as she tried to think up some way to distract her father from unjustly torturing the captive Elf. She couldn't think of many things that would actually distract Thráin since Dís couldn't just go down there herself. She wasn't supposed to know what was going on, after all. There was only one thing she could really think of that would get her father's attention off of Legolas. A new subject to vent at. 

Dís ran from her rooms towards the battlements. There was one section that was still well sheltered, and several Ravens still roosted there. The Dwarves rarely had cause to send messages but when they did the Ravens was the only way to do so.

The distance seemed much too far, but Dís got to the battlements as fast as she possibly could. The mountain shook from the Elven Onslaught even more here, and she nearly lost her balance. Dís ignored the rumbling and crashes as she skirted the debris of shattered rocks. Another boulder broke just above her and Dís couldn't help the short shriek as she ducked behind the semi-sheltered area of an overhang. Rocks bigger than her head rained down across the battlements and then down the front of Erebor. Dís waited until the last stones fell before darting past.

She reached the sheltered roosts of the Ravens and looked around. "I need the fastest of you," she told them. The Ravens exchanged a few looks before a young and very proud looking bird hopped forward and tilted its head curiously. "You must go to my sons in the Elven Camp. Tell them that Thranduil needs to distract my father from hurting his son. Tell him to try and approach the front gates. Thranduil is the one my father's actually angry at. He'll forget whatever evil he's planned to face the Elf King." The raven bowed low before taking off, having to dip low to avoid some debris raining down from higher up on the mountain. Dís watched the blackbird fly for a moment before turning to hurry back inside. She sincerely hoped that she was right and Thrain's anger would be redirected to Thranduil and stop him from hurting Legolas further.

Ruminn, son of Roäc, twirled around a flying boulder as he flew across the no mans land. Most ravens avoided flying near the Elvish camp for fear of the arrows. Thranduil had made it clear that while he had nothing against the Ravens personally, he wasn't going to stop shooting the messengers of the Dwarves out of the sky if he spotted them. Although recently messages had been exchanged between the camp and the mountain again. Ruminn still stayed high until the last few moments before diving down into the camp in case any Elf got too eager to shoot at him.

More than a few Elves looked as Ruminn flew through the camp for some sign of his targets. Hopefully, they would be near to each other. The camp was spread out over a large area, after all. Ruminn had to take quick dodges to avoid tents and Elves and clotheslines. Ruminn rounded a large tent near the middle of the camp and spotted the two young Princes. He instantly adjusted his flight to land on the blonde one's shoulder. The female Elf that had been walking with them towards the big tent seemed startled by his sudden landing.

"A message from the mountain?" Kíli questioned. Ruminn bobbed his head in agreement.

"Then we'd best listen to this inside," Tauriel said as she gestured for them to proceed her into Thranduil's tent. Luckily they had been on the way in to speak with the Elf King already.

Thranduil looked up from the wine he was pouring as they came in and frowned at the raven perched on Fíli’s shoulder. "What is this?" he asked as he put the stopper back in the decanter. He picked up the goblet now full of wine and turned to them entirely. 

Ruminn jumped off of Fíli's shoulder to fly to a nearby table. "Princess Dís sends news. Urgent news," he said. Ruminn wasn't as good at Westron as his father was but he had enough of a grasp of the language to get most messages across. He hopped to the edge of the table. "Elf King need come to gates. King Thráin planning evil. Elf King can distract," he imparted as clearly as he could.

Thranduil's eyes widened before narrowing. "What do you mean 'evil'?" he asked although he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Ruminn shuffled his feathers. "Princess say King Thrain want hurt Elf King son."

Thranduil looked as if he might fall over for a moment but then snapped out of it quickly to look at the Captain of the Guard. "Tauriel!"

Instantly Tauriel bowed. "At once." She spun and hurried out to go get the King's stag prepared, and an honor guard assembled as quickly as was physically possible.

Thranduil put his wine down so fast and hard some of the red liquid sloshed over the side before he turned. "I will need you two to accompany me," Thranduil told the Dwarves as he went where his armor was gleaming on a stand in the corner of the room. "Though your Dwarven Archers are not as accurate or plentiful as my own I would rather them not bother shooting at us as we approach. Your presence should assure that and that your Grandfather is alerted immediately to my approach."

"Of course we'll go with you," Kíli piped up instantly.

"Yes, whatever our Grandfather is doing, we want to disrupt it as well," Fíli agreed.

Thranduil paused for just a second to look over at them. Then he nodded and flung his robe off to land half on his bed. "You will need to be bound to give the proper impression," he added as he quickly started changing into his armor.

The two Dwarven Princes quickly looked away as the Elven King changed from casual wear to his armor. They had certainly not expected for Thranduil to change in front of them although he was obviously and understandably in quite the hurry. They weren't entirely sure how this distraction would go, but hopefully, they would be quick enough to stop anything worse from happening to the already severely injured Legolas.

Thranduil seemed to have changed into his very kingly armor and fastened his sword to his hip. Instead of his woodland crown of woven twigs and berries, Thranduil put on a circlet of silver that the Dwarves were sure that they'd never seen before. He turned to face them, his cape sweeping out behind him as he did so. "Come. Our guard should be ready by now, and we haven't the time to waste."


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically at work and shouldnt be writing but who cares!
> 
>  
> 
> Also means this hasnt been edited or fancy accents added to all dem names! I'll do that later.

Kíli was sitting in front of Tauriel on a horse to the left of Thranduil while Fíli was in front of the blonde Elf that had first caught Kíli, whose name they now knew was Haldir. An entire contingent of Elves was marching behind them, and Kíli could see that the rest of the barricade were ready for action if the meeting went badly. Kíli turned his attention to the mountain in front of them just in time to see one of the guards disappear off the battlements. They had just gotten within shouting distance of the wall when an arrow was shot from the mountain and hit the ground right in front of Thranduil's buck. The bolt hit a rock and flew off into two pieces, but the stag looked nonplussed and snorted. Thranduil also didn't seem concerned, but Kíli figured that he was far more used to arrows than axes and even Elves couldn't possibly hit their targets every time. "Come no closer!" a deep voice shouted from the wall.

"I've come to parlay with your King," Thranduil clearly shouted back. "Go and fetch him or I'll reduce your excess of Princes."

Kíli couldn't help but stiffen even though he was almost sure that Thranduil wasn't about to carry the threat out. Fíli also looked uncomfortable in front of Haldir. "Don't worry, he would start with your brother rather than you," Tauriel whispered. Kíli shot an anxious look back over his shoulder. Tauriel wasn't looking at him but ahead.

Tauriel's mouth twitched so slightly that Kíli almost missed it and he realized he was being teased. He relaxed instantly. "You're not funny," he grumbled.

"I would have thought you'd appreciate me trying to lighten the mood," she said, no longer bothering to hide her amusement.

"You should warn a guy before you start to randomly develop a sense of humor," Kíli said as he spun back around to face forwards. Though he had to admit, he was glad she'd said something and broke the tension. Waiting for his Grandfather to arrive with angry Elves around him, and angry Dwarves in front of him, was perhaps the most uncomfortable situation he'd ever been in. And he included that incident when he, Fíli, and Gimli had all decided to sneak around in the kitchens and ended up hiding squeezed between a very fragrant barrel of eels and a very hot exhaust pipe (which did not help at all with the eel smell).

The wait seemed to go on forever, and Kíli was getting anxious. Thranduil looked to be running out of patience with waiting and moved his buck forward several steps. "If you're that eager to see your King's grandsons die, continue to make me wait," he threatened.

"Keep yer ears on!" someone shouted back. "The King's got more important things to do than deal wit yer pompous arse!"

"He's keeping us alive!" another piped up from further down the wall.

Thranduil's expression didn't change, but judging by how his buck shifted uneasily, the King was definitely not happy at being shouted at. "Your King is the one condemning you all," he said with deceptive calm. Kíli was surprised that his voice carried as well as it did without Thranduil shouting.

"Do not blame me for your actions!" Thraín roared. Thranduil shifted to better face the spot on the battlements that the King of Erebor had appeared on. Thraín had his full royal persona with his crown glinting in the light and his thick coat over his armor.

"I do not blame you for my actions but for yours," Thranduil replied. "I want my son, Thraín."

"And I want mine!" Thraín yelled, slamming his fist on the stone of the battlements. "But you stole him from me!"

"You are the one that stole my son!" Thranduil nearly growled. "Your son died because your Father was a thieving kidnapper who's only thought was how to abate his own greed! If you are looking for blame, place it there!"

Thraín stormed further down the battlements to be closer to Thranduil, if only slightly. "You would not pay us our due!"

"You ransom my son and dare call it your due?"

Kíli shifted in his seat uneasily. He had seen Thranduil angered before, but this was to a level he hadn't thought any Elf could reach. Red was starting to creep into Thranduil's pale face, and there was a twitch in the Elf King's fingers that kept making Kíli think he was barely holding back reaching for a weapon. "We found him and tended his wounds!" Thraín roared.

"Wounds you no doubt caused!" Thranduil snapped back. "Even your own people know you to have no grounds for this! Is that not why your uncle forsook your entire line?"

"You speak of things you know nothing about!" Thraín yelled, his beard bristling like an angered porcupine was clinging to his front.

Thranduil's buck moved another few steps forwards. "I would not be so sure I do not know about it, if I were you," Thranduil said, his voice dropping in volume but somehow still perfectly audible. "Centuries ago, I spoke with Grór so that he could talk sense into your crazed Father. He was appalled by Thrór and his actions. No 'honorable' Dwarf would do what you have done."

Kíli could almost see the second that his Grandfather's anger boiled over. He had always taken criticism to against Thrór poorly and hearing it from Thranduil was sure to infuriate him. And when he was that angry he often did and said things without thinking, words meant only to hurt the other person. "Your precious son weeps like a babe," Thraín hissed. "He screams and cries and carries on in ways even children would be ashamed of and all because of a few tiny, little, broken bones."

Thranduil was visibly trembling with rage. Thraín's furious expression turned into one that looked far too confident and pleased with himself. "He is such a wretched thing, laying there like a useless lump and screaming like a cat getting its skin torn off. But once I am done ripping every last bit of light from him, I will send him back to you. Which finger would you like first?"

Thranduil reacted with lightning speed and for a brief second Kíli saw something glinting in the air. Thraín screamed and grabbed at his face where the handle of a dagger had suddenly blossomed from his eye socket. Instantly, the Dwarves on the battlements and the Elves behind Thranduil reacted.

Arrows were fired from both sides, and a few Elves and Dwarves fell. Thranduil made an angry retreat out of the range of the Dwarven bows, not even seeming to care that Thraín was cursing him at the top of his lungs. "That could backfire badly, my Lord," Haldir commented. "Thraín will not be happy to have lost an eye."

"Did you not hear what he said, Haldir?" Thranduil demanded in a roar, whipping around to face Haldir directly. "What he is doing to my son is utter madness and cruelty!"

"Surely he said it only to upset you," Tauriel tried. "Even he would not seek to do such a horrible crime against someone who has not wronged him."

Kíli shifted uneasily. "What... exactly did it mean?" he asked although Gandalf had already told him, he wanted to hope that his Grandfather hadn't just shoved such a horrible thing in Thranduil's face.

"A fate worse than any gruesome death," Haldir told him. "He would have Legolas exist as little more than a monster."

Both Kíli and Fíli winced. The Elves had known precisely what Thraín had been alluding to and Thranduil had reacted about as well as could be expected. "He is lucky my hand shook, and I missed his throat," Thranduil hissed.

"But he will only hurt Legolas more for anger over his eye," Haldir pointed out.

"He was not going to avoid hurting my son no matter what I did," Thranduil said as he turned his stag and started back to the line of the camp. "At least this way he can suffer some fraction of Legolas' pain as well. I can do nothing to stop him while he sits behind his walls but hopefully tending the wound will take enough time for your conspirators to do something for my son."

Kíli leaned forward in his seat. "I'm sure they'll take the chance right away, King Thranduil."

Thranduil suddenly stopped and turned to face Kíli and Fíli. "You knew of this didn't you?" Neither Dwarf could bring themselves to say anything. "You knew what he was doing to my son and didn't tell me. Why?"

"Why would we?" Fíli asked back. "You couldn't stop it and neither could we. We didn't even know what it was doing to him at first. Telling you would only make you more upset and considering you just took out our Grandfather's eye, I'd say caution was well deserved."

Thranduil looked about ready to argue further but then closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them again to look directly at Fíli. "How long has he been doing this to my son?" When neither Dwarf answered right away, he scowled. "Tell me."

"You won't like it," Fíli warned. Thranduil just narrowed his eyes and waited. Fíli sighed he didn't in any way wish to be the bearer of upsetting news, but it seemed as if he had been forced into that role by his Thraín and Thranduil was not going to let him go without answering. "At least two hundred years... probably more," he answered.

Utter devastation crossed Thranduil's face, and a small half-strangled noise managed to escape. Tauriel gasped aloud. "Nobody has ever survived so long with such torment!"

Kíli couldn't stop the question that came flying thoughtlessly from his own mouth, "How long do people usually last then?" Fíli reached across the gap and hit his brother in the arm. "Sorry, you don't have to answer that," Kíli added quickly. "It was a stupid question."

"Perhaps, but I'll answer it anyway," Thranduil said. "The longest we know that any Elf has been able to hold onto their souls while under such horrifying torture was fifty years."

"Fifty?" Kíli whimpered.

"Most succumbed before twenty," Haldir added.

Kíli felt sick to think of the vast difference in numbers. They had been torturing Legolas for ten times as long as most endured. "M-maybe when they made the thing they didn't do it right and it won't... do that to him," he offered although judging by the look on Thranduil's face what little optimism he had scrounged together was already fading.

"If my son is not returned to me or if he is... lost to this torment he is suffering," Thranduil began, "Then I will rip this mountain to shreds along with everyone inside."


	48. Poll Time

I usually don't do chapters that aren't actual chapters but I have a serious question for all the readers of this story and I know not everyone follows my twitter.

Bad things are going to happen to Legolas and I need a vote on if you all want to see that as it happens or just the after effects of it when Gimli gets there. It is a pretty intense scene in my head so I wanted to get some feedback before doing it. So vote yea or nay on seeing the -what boils down to essentially a torture scene or not. There is also the option of me posting it as a side oneshot or posting it as a separate chapter you all can skip. Let me know.

Kairyn

**NOW CLOSED. THANKS FOR YOUR OPINIONS**


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **READ ME! READ ME! READ ME! READ ME!**
> 
> This is the chapter that if you do not want to read Legolas being hurt you should skip. If you do not care by all means read it and feel bad for Leggy. But this is your warning that this chapter may not be to your taste. I will be posting another chapter immediately after this one for those of you that want to skip this one so that everyone has at least something to read.

Legolas felt a horribly painful grinding sensation, and he was brought back to the world of consciousness again. He hissed in pain and tried to pull away from the pain building in his right shoulder. Legolas wasn't able to escape, however, as his head was jerked back by a rough tug on his hair. He blinked several times to bring the room into focus and glared at the sight of Thraín standing there in front of him. Thraín was the one that had a hold of Legolas' hair, but several other guards were holding him tightly between them, including one that had the elf's arm wrenched back to the point of pain.

"There he is," Thraín said sounding almost sane for once. "I am so very glad you decided to join us again, Princess."

Legolas narrowed his eyes and tried to shift into a more comfortable position where there wasn't as much strain on his shoulder. "I haven't much choice in the matter," Legolas pointed out bitterly. He wasn't going to protest the 'Princess' title since the King would only take that as another reason to continue with its usage.

Legolas hissed in pain as his arm was pulled further back and up to put more strain on his shoulder. He could feel the bone grinding along the edge of the socket, and Legolas tried to lean forward to ease the pressure. Thraín moved his thick hand from the elf's hair to wrap around his throat and squeeze. Legolas choked instantly and was forced to stop trying to squirm as his air supply was abruptly cut off.

Thraín held Legolas there gasping for each tiniest bit of air that managed to get through while the guard continued to slowly pull his arm. Legolas struggled and tried to free his other limb, but it was also held tight by another of Thraín's men. Thraín squeezed tighter and watched with intense focus as Legolas' face began to turn colors. The elf's eyes were huge with desperation as he tried to struggle free. Thraín gave a slight nod to the guard without looking away from his captive.

A pained and mostly strangled noise escaped Legolas' squeezed throat as the elf's arm was pulled further up and back. A horrible grinding noise escaped until it turned into a stomach-churning series of rapid cracks. Finally, there was a louder almost pop noise, and Legolas let out the closest thing to a scream that he could as his joint separated, and his arm was forced from the socket.

Thraín pulled his free hand back and then slammed it into Legolas' reddened face as hard as he could. The guards kept him from falling down to the ground again as Thraín let his anger take over. His grip went back to Legolas' hair to pull the elf's head back up to take each punch as it was delivered. Legolas barely had a chance to let out any noise of pain as the Dwarf's work hardened fist slammed into his nose and eye and jaw over and over again. Legolas could taste and smell blood, and already he felt his eye swelling, but he couldn't even attempt to dodge out of the way as the King's punch came down yet again.

The door to the chamber opened, and Thraín punched Legolas particularly hard. Legolas felt bursts of pain all along his skull as his head finally snapped to the side despite Thraín's grip in his hair. Legolas' head was swimming with pain, and he found it difficult to focus his vision. His skull was still stinging as Legolas managed to lift his head just slightly. 

There was a conversation going on in front of the dazed elf, but he couldn't focus on it. His eyes were instead focused on the fistful of blonde hair the King was still holding. Legolas felt something warm and wet against his scalp and slowly realized that a small patch of his own hair had been ripped out from how hard he'd been punched. That managed to rouse a dark fury that Legolas used to focus on the throbbing pain in his shoulder.

Rugnar looked so old, Legolas realized after a solid minute of trying to place the other Dwarf. He knew that he had to have been locked away for decades, but the concept hadn't fully sunken in until he'd seen the once young Dwarf all wrinkled, bent and needing a cane. Rugnar very deliberately did not look at Legolas with his quickly swelling face, ripped out hair, and dislocated joint. Legolas glared at the lamp maker, refusing to allow himself to be ignored. "Still doing his bidding, I see, Rugnar," Legolas said despite how raspy his voice was from his painfully sore throat.

Rugnar stiffened but didn't look at the Elf. "Where're his masks?" he asked the King.

"My idiot son seems to have removed them," Thraín said.

"He does not seem such an idiot to me," Legolas rasped. "Much smarter than you, Thraín."

Thraín glared at Legolas. "Quiet or I'll rip out more of this," he said holding up the strands of Legolas' hair. Thraín looked at the fistful for a moment before dropping it off to the side and flicking his fingers to get the tangled bits free enough to fall.

Legolas didn't want to have more hair ripped out, but he also had been forced to stay quiet for far too long. "Sounds as if you know that he is smarter than you, oh King Under the Mountain," Legolas taunted. "That makes sense. Much like how your Uncle was smarter than your Father. Your Uncle saw the war his brother would cause and washed his hands of it immediately. Too bad Thrór wasn't-"

Thraín punched Legolas again, dazing the Elf and knocking loose a few teeth from the pure force behind it. "Find those masks!" Thraín ordered his guards harshly. "I'm sick of hearing his smug voice."

"The truth often sounds smug to those that rarely hear it," Legolas said before running his tongue over his teeth to make sure none had been knocked so loose that they were in danger of falling out altogether.

Thraín grabbed Legolas tight by the throat again and pulled the Elf close. "You wear on my already thin patience, boy. I would suggest keeping quiet before I rip out your tongue to ensure that you are." Legolas gasped and struggled against the tight grips holding him in place.

"My King!" another dwarf called. "I found the masks!"

"Good! Bring them here!"

Legolas fought even harder to free himself despite the constant pain in his shoulder which turned sharper with each slight movement of his arm or body. He struggled to pull his arms from the grip of the guards as the masks he hated more than anything else were brought closer. Thraín picked up the first that went over Legolas' lower jaw, and the Elf thrashed his head to try and avoid having it put back over his head.

Thraín tried several times to hook the mask into place and failed due purely to how savagely Legolas was thrashing. Frustrated, Thraín smacked Legolas hard enough to wrench his one dislocated arm out of the grip of the guard holding it. Legolas cursed in pain as his arm was allowed to drop uselessly and the ball of his shoulder ground down against the outside of the socket.

The guard, now deprived of Legolas' arm, grabbed hold of the Elf's head to keep him still. Legolas still struggled but wasn't strong enough to actually move. Instead, he spat curses at them until the mask was fastened and locked his jaw closed. Even afterwards Legolas tried to yell, but it came off muffled and not nearly as threatening as he would have liked it to be. The second mask came next and was, to Legolas' dismay, even easier to force on than the first. 

A heavy boot slammed into the back of Legolas' dislocated shoulder, and he screamed so loud that the mask barely muffled the noise at all. Legolas fell to the ground in pain, and the booted foot stayed there, pinning the injured joint to down with far more strength than was truly necessary. Tears of pain burned in Legolas' quickly swelling eyes but he refused to let them fall even though only he would ever know.

The boot stayed there, occasionally grinding down and causing even more pain. Legolas was vaguely aware of talking going on around him, but the constant agony that was his shoulder wasn't allowing him to pay the conversation any attention at all. Legolas kept trying to gather some amount of his meager strength to lash out, but each attempt ended pathetically quickly as the guard pinning his shoulder just put more of his not insubstantial weight down.

Legolas wasn't sure how long it took, but he was suddenly pinned down in more places as well, ensuring that he definitely couldn't move. Legolas was instantly familiar with the slightly spread eagle position and tried to wrench his uninjured arm free of the hands holding it. He was not going to passively allow them to put more of those horrible spikes in his back. Legolas didn't even care that misplacing them would most likely cause terrible side effects, he wasn't going to allow it quietly. More guards were instantly on him, pinning him down forcefully so that he could barely squirm at all.

"Keep him as still as you can," Rugnar said. "These placements are very precise... are you sure you wish to do this now, my King? I don't have all of the anchors ready yet."

"I'm sure. He should get the just reward for his little stunt," Thraín growled.

Legolas struggled more but was pushed hard against the stone floor. "As you wish," Rugnar said. Legolas tried to keep his breathing regular since he knew from experience hyperventilating only made the pain worse, but as he heard the old Dwarf coming closer, he found himself failing. The waiting was almost worse than the actual act, and Legolas clenched his one good fist tight to stop it from trembling.

The tip of the spike was cold and blunt against Legolas' back, and his muscles all tightened to the point it was painful. Legolas trembled despite himself as the nail shifted until the end was resting on his lower back right within the groove of his spine. The point shifted slightly as Rugnar looked for precisely the place he wanted to put it. Finally, the blunted tip stopped moving, and Legolas screwed his eyes shut. The placement of the spike was horrifying, with it cradled right between the dips of his spine.

The tension of the moment built until Legolas was sure he'd go mad until finally, the hammer dropped. The scream didn't even sound muffled as white-hot lightning exploded in his lower back and shot through his entire system. He could feel his spine separate as the spike burned its way into him like a molten rock. Agonizing sensations continued to explode all up his spine and shoulder and within his head, but far more terrifying was how the pain had abruptly cut off below that point. 

The hammer slammed against the head of the spike again, driving the wedge deeper between his spine. Pain rippled up Legolas' back and made his vision flash white even behind his eyelids. Each spot where a spike was already wedged seemed to resonate with even more of a sting than they normally did. Another hit of the hammer had the spike sinking all the way into Legolas' flesh, which was already starting to discolor with an ugly bruise.

Legolas could only vaguely feel the blood dripping down his back and sides from where the spike had violently been punched into him. Tears managed to escape despite his every effort to not cry from the agony. 

Legolas felt another spike lining up with the first albeit higher up his spine, and he tried his best to shout at them. His voice was far too muffled and turned to a scream as the hammer forced the blunt tip of the spike into his back again. His spine was forcibly and tortuously separated again as the metal jerked deeper and deeper with every impact of the hammer. More tears escaped, to stick the masks to his swollen face as the fresh pain kept erupting from his back.

Legolas couldn't keep track of the number, but eventually, the pain of the hammer strikes became overwhelming. He was able to force his mind away from the situation, although distantly he was still aware of the pain he was in far too much. A storm-ravaged his forest as each silver pin was embedded into his spine, but there he stayed where he was at least marginally protected from the horrors.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter still has a few unpleasant images but at least you don't see it happening (if you skipped the last chapter anyway)
> 
> Also, tags have been updated to include the unpleasantness.

Gimli had no idea if Legolas would be asleep already or not but he needed to prepare the captive Elf for their escape attempt. Nori had said he had a place to stash Legolas until they could actually manage a way out of the mountain, but he warned it was usually used for smuggling goods and not living beings. Ori had gone to help his brother get it more liveable while the Urs went to collect Rugnar and Glóin went to get his brother's advice on cutting the cables from Legolas' back. The entire group of uncaptured conspirators was scrambling to do as much as possible with almost no time whatsoever.

The adrenaline was making falling asleep difficult for Gimli, but he truly needed to do so. Gimli wished he had a more reliable method for secretly contacting Legolas as he rolled over in his bed for perhaps the fiftieth time. His mind was racing, and it was still essentially the middle of the day for him. After a few minutes, Gimli sighed and sat upright. Perhaps he could knock himself out somehow?

Gimli's tolerance for alcohol meant that it would take drinking far more than he could afford and if he passed out from drunkenness he had no idea if that would affect how he was in the dream world. Gimli got up and left his room to go into the kitchen. His mother was standing there at the counter cleaning a pot. "Mum... do you have anything to help me sleep?" Gimli asked.

"At this time of day?" she asked back with bewilderment.

Gimli nodded. "Um, yeah, see... there's a lot that's been happening lately, and I'll explain later, but right now I really need something that'll put me to sleep fast and stay that way for a while."

She still seemed confused but that slowly changed to disapproval. "And just what have you gotten yourself into this time?"

Gimli wince. "I promise I'll tell you later, mum. Really... and Dad knows," he deflected.

"Of course he does," she said with a scowl. After a minute she went to one of the cabinets and started rummaging through the different jars of herbs and spices. Being married to the brother of the Royal Physician, she had most home remedies and even a few specialty supplies in her house at all times. "I swear you two are going to be the death of me," she grumbled as she pulled a few scoops of powder and leaves from various jars and dumped them in a mug.

Gimli decided that his best move was to stay back and not say anything. There was a reason that Gimli hadn't said anything to his mother about what they were doing. She would no doubt have more than a single thing to say about the entire situation and Gimli was confident that she would speak them loudly.

After boiling some water to finish making the tea, Gimli's mother handed the mug to him. "There. That should help," she said.

"Thanks, Mum," Gimli said as he cradled the steaming mug between his hands. "This is all really important." She didn't look entirely convinced but nodded anyway. Gimli was glad that she decided to let it go without too much argument. He hadn't thought he'd get away without some lecture about keeping secrets and getting into trouble but perhaps today he was unusually lucky.

Gimli made his way back to his room and tried to get comfortable. The tea was still scaldingly hot, so he had to sip it slowly. The tea was bitter, but the heat kept most of the taste from registering. By the time the mug was half emptied, Gimli was starting to feel tired, and he knew that the concoction was definitely working. He sipped at the liquid for another few moments until he was sure that it wouldn't burn his tongue or throat and then quickly gulped the rest. 

Gimli put the now empty mug down on the side table and laid down to close his eyes. After a few minutes of trying his best to not think of anything and ruin the nicely drowsy feeling the tea had caused, he finally felt himself starting to drift off. He yawned loudly and pulled his pillow closer to his chest. Time was oddly skewed as he dozed off and Gimli had no idea how long he was half awake or how long he was asleep before he suddenly found himself standing in the woods. 

The woods weren't how Gimli remembered them at all. The sky was a mass of black clouds were continuously rolled and tossed by howling wind. The trees creaked and snapped as they struggled to stay standing upright. The grass under Gimli's feet seemed grey and brittle, and the flowers had faded to a pale ashy color. Gimli saw lightning in the distance that cast twisted shadows through the forest but eerily no thunder accompanied it. "Legolas!"

The wind whistled through the tree branches, and several twigs were ripped away to fly through the air. Gimli was more than a little uncomfortable as he started walking. He had visited this forest dozens of times now, but he couldn't recognize where he was going. The path he usually followed was twisting and uneven. Several trees had turned dark grey like charred wood and had been thrown across the track, forcing Gimli to scramble over them.

Gimli had to fight through the forest until he finally reached the clearing. The wind suddenly stopped moaning when he entered the space, although the trees were still being pulled and bent as if the wind were again whipping through them. The sky continued to roll and was occasionally lit by lightning. "Legolas?" Gimli called as he took several more steps forward.

The crystals in the river had all shattered and turned black, and the water had dried up leaving just rocks behind. The lounge was broken and overturned, and Gimli felt his apprehension sharply climbing as he approached. "Legolas?" he called again while moving across the clearing. The area was far too silent and empty. Broken in a way that Gimli was terrified would reflect the Elf himself. "Legolas!"

No answer came from the Elf, and Gimli's worry was growing to the point of near panic. Gimli had hoped that he had managed to reach Legolas before anything terrible had happened but from the state of the dream, that hope was dying as quickly as the trees around him had.

Gimli rounded the destroyed lounge and finally spotted Legolas. The dwarf couldn't stop the cry that escaped as he crouched down and picked up the limp and staring Elf. Legolas was pale as silk and just as pliable in Gimli's arms, and his blue eyes were faded and distant. "Legolas! Legolas, it's me Gimli!" He gave the Elf a shake, but Legolas didn't seem to notice.

Legolas' skin seemed paper thin, and Gimli reached up to gently tap at his cheek. "Legolas. Come on, I'm here now. You'll be alright." Legolas' breathing was thin and broken, but Gimli was glad he was breathing at all. "Come on, Legolas. Focus. I'm right here... whatever they did to you, I'm here now."

Gimli gave Legolas another slight shake but still got no response. His eyes burned and his throat tangled into a tight ball as the Elf just laid there in his arms. Gimli didn't know what had happened to the Elf, but it had to have been horrific to elicit such a response, or rather, lack of one. "Come on, Legolas," Gimli cooed as he brushed loose strands of hair from Legolas' slack face. "You're stronger than whatever they did to you."

The faintest sound escaped Legolas' throat, and Gimli brushed the Elf's hair back again. "That's right, come back," he urged softly. "I'm right here."

Gimli continued to murmur encouragement to the Elf while stroking his hair and cradling his limp body. Each moment seemed to stretch on for ages until Legolas finally and achingly slowly blinked. Gimli managed to smile down at him although he felt more like crying himself. "There you are."

"Gimli..?"

"Yeah, it's me," Gimli said, his hand still moving to stroke Legolas' hair back automatically. "We're getting you out of that room."

A pained noise escaped the Elf. "G-gimli..." A sharp dagger slammed into Gimli's chest at the sight of tears building in Legolas' eyes. Gimli shushed the Elf gently and brushed the tears away with his thumb. A shaky exhale managed to escape, and Gimli was sure that Legolas wanted to say something else but couldn't. Seeing the Elf like this was so incredibly painful for some reason that Gimli couldn't fully explain. Gimli wished he had the real Legolas in his arms right then so that he could bring more comfort to him.

"It's alright," Gimli cooed. "You'll be safe soon. We're going to have to cut you out of the machine, and we don't know what that'll do, but we aren't going to leave you there any longer."

"I-it hurt so much," Legolas whispered shakily.

Gimli's smile turned into a grimace. "They won't be able to hurt you anymore. I promise," he said. "We'll get you away from all this, and you can be safe with your father back home again."

Legolas whimpered again, and Gimli gently began to rock the Elf's still limp form. He wasn't sure why Legolas was still just laying there with tears in his eyes, but it couldn't be any good reason. Gimli leaned closer to the Elf and continued to pet him gently. "What did they do to you, Legolas?" he dared ask. Legolas' eyes screwed shut, and Gimli regretted asking instantly. "It's alright. I'm here. We'll get you out. I swear we will."

Gimli woke abruptly when someone shook his shoulder hard. "Damn it, what?" he asked sourly and still mostly asleep. Legolas hadn't been in any condition to simply leave behind alone. Gimli would have preferred to stay until the Elf hadn't been lying in his arms constantly on the verge of tears. Gimli blinked when he saw a familiar beardless face in front of him. "Mr. Baggins?" The tea had done an excellent job at getting Gimli drowsy, and now that he was awake again, he was incredibly groggy.

"Lady Dís needs us all back," Bilbo said. "I saw them taking more spikes to Legolas, so we need to get him out now."

Gimli was awake instantly, and he felt his blood drain from his face. Now he could imagine why Legolas had been so pained in their shared dream. Gimli struggled out from under his covers and grabbed his boots. "What about the King?" he asked as he quickly jammed his feet inside.

"Lady Dís has a plan to distract him," Bilbo answered.

Gimli was quickly ready and ran from the Gimli's bedroom. Gimli's mother looked bewildered and concerned, but they didn't have time to tell her what was going on. Gimli would have to explain things once they got Legolas somewhere safer than that room.

Gimli outpaced Bilbo as they ran and without him realizing it, the Hobbit vanished entirely just after they left the house. More than a few Dwarves stopped and stared at the disheveled guardsman that ran at full tilt through the halls and down steep stairways only to later climb up others. Gimli didn't care how crazy he appeared to be.

When Gimli arrived back at Lady Dís' what remained of the conspiracy were already there waiting. Gimli assumed that they were still waiting for Rugnar. Bilbo was a few minutes behind Gimli in entering Dís' sitting room, having had to dodge around those that couldn't actually see him. When Dís saw the two of them, she sighed in relief. "Good. Bilbo, I need you to watch for when my father leaves to go confront Thranduil. I sent a message to Fili and Kili so we should have a chance soon."

"We need to hurry," Gimli said. "I managed to contact Legolas, but he was already in trouble."

"What sort of trouble?" Bilbo asked.

Gimli grimaced. "He was in pain... and I think shock. I couldn't get much out of him. But I think he understands that we're coming for him." He hoped that Legolas understood they were going to free him anyway. That would make what they were about to do much easier. Bilbo frowned at that news before running through the door and then vanishing entirely.

"How are we going to deal with the guards that are left there?" Loni asked.

"I'm still Princess," Dís said. "I'll order them to let us in and then to stay quiet. Without my father there, they'll have to follow my directions."

"King Thraín will know you're involved then," Glóin pointed out. "Especially if they disobey you later on and tell the King who ordered them to let us take the Elf."

Dís shrugged. "That's a risk that we'll have to take. I'm not going to leave him there to be hurt further." 

"And if they don't listen to you at all?" Nori asked. "Ol' Thraín's bound to have left people loyal to him in charge while he's gone."

"Then we'll make them hand Legolas over," Gimli said instantly. He couldn't get the image of the transformed forest and tears in Legolas' eyes out of his head. There was just no way that he was going to let Legolas stay there any longer and get hurt even worse.

"Right... well, Dori'll be glad to see us when we get thrown in jail with him," Nori told Ori. The little scribe elbowed his brother in the side and told him to hush, but Nori didn't seem all that cowed by the action.

"We won't be thrown in jail," Dís said. The others looked at her curiously. "Well, we will do our best to not be thrown in jail. Nori is the hiding place ready for Legolas?"

Nori snorted. "I suppose as ready as it can be. Still not gonna be comfy for him but he'll be hidden away nice an' secret like."

Bilbo suddenly came dashing back into the room. "It's already happening. I saw Thraín walking through the halls towards the battlements. We have to go now." The others were slightly startled but scrambled to react.

Dís all but stormed out of her room to head for the center of the mountain. "Gimli, Ori, and Nori stay back when we get there. Once the guards are taken care of, then you can come and get Legolas. Until then I don't want anyone to be able to point you out to my father," she said as they almost ran through the halls. They got plenty more stares from bystanders, but none of them noticed. Rumors would be flying everywhere after all that had happened today, but none of them cared.

Gimli didn't like the idea of hanging back, but he supposed that Dís had a point as much as he didn't want to admit it. If they managed to get Legolas away but not keep themselves secret, which seemed a likely result of everything, then someone would need to be left to help the Elf out of the mountain.

Plenty of kitchen staff stopped and looked as they got closer to the secret prison. There was almost invariably some sort of activity around the kitchens, but as their group rounded to the back side of the kitchens to the corridor that the heart chamber branched off from, the number of people suddenly dropped. No guards were posted in this hall, which made Dís glad to see. She was genuinely hoping that most had left with her father to go face the Elfking. The fewer of her father's men they had to deal with the safer this entire move would be for them. 

Nori caught his brother and Gimli just inside the corridor to the heart chamber and stopped them from going further down. "Alright then. We'll wait here," he said before nodding to the others, who had paused for just a moment.

Gimli waited uneasily for any sign that he was needed or that it was his turn to come in. Not knowing what had happened to Legolas was making him very anxious. Especially with the news that Bilbo had seen new spikes being brought out.

The three Dwarves tried to not be too impatient as they waited for the others to handle however many guards had been left behind with Legolas. "I hope cutting Legolas out doesn't hurt him too badly," Ori murmured as he fiddled with the end of his scarf. He wasn't sure why Lady Dís had ordered him to stay behind, but he was somewhat glad as well. Ori didn't think he'd be terribly useful in a fight if it came down to that. While, yes, he could hold his own as all Dwarves could, he had an almost unnatural desire to avoid physical confrontation.

"Guess we'll find out," Nori said as he fingered a knife in his pocket.

They waited for another five minutes before Bofur came trotting back down the hall. "Alright. We got lucky... there were only a few guards still left."

Gimli was glad to hear that since that made things much easier. Gimli had to fight himself to not run down the hall to the chamber. When he got there, he spotted six guards sitting in a corner staring at the walls or, in the case of three others, slumped down in unconsciousness. Gimli quickly moved on from the guards to Legolas and had to strangle the noise that wanted to escape.

Legolas was limp on his stomach, but Gimli could still see bruises on his pale skin and the fact that his face was again covered by those damnable masks. His right shoulder seemed oddly out of alignment and Gimli could see a chunk of somewhat bloody blonde hair on the ground in front of the Elf. What was far worse than any of that was that eight new bleeding wounds were punched deep in his back. Blood was oozing from underneath what appeared to be large silver rivets, and as Gimli knelt down beside Legolas, he realized with no small amount of horror, that each one had been forced in between the vertebrae of Legolas' spine. Legolas' long limbs were laying in awkward positions as if dropped without even the slightest care about if it were comfortable or not.

Gimli carefully rolled Legolas' still form over and undid the masks. Most of Legolas' face was swollen and discolored, and blood was staining his lips, but he was staring at nothing. He was probably still in that forest clearing in his head. Gimli had to fight the urge to curse and go confront Thraín. Legolas took priority. "Óin said to cut the cords as close to the base as possible," Glóin murmured as Nori pulled his knife out.

Nori wasn't usually one to hesitate, but as Ori helped get the first cable out of the way for his brother to cut, there was a definite pause. Nori glanced up at Gimli, and the younger Dwarf gave a slight nod. Nori rolled his knife in his hand for a moment longer before suddenly slashing. The thick tube was sliced deeply, and light streamed from the gash like moonlight shining through the cracks of clouds or trees. Nori hacked at the cable again, and on the third swing, it finally was cut off entirely. The light abruptly stopped shining, and Ori dropped the now dark wire to the ground. The lanterns of Erebor flickered but stayed lit.

Each cable took several swings to cut free and still Legolas didn't so much as flinch. Gimli wasn't sure if that was because it didn't hurt or if Legolas was unaware or even if the Elf simply couldn't flinch from all the other pain and injuries. 

Almost fifteen minutes later, Gimli wrapped the blanket that was now stained with the Elf's blood around Legolas' body and picked him up with as little awkwardness as possible. Nori sheathed his knife and Ori grabbed a few other things from where Legolas had been laying. "Hurry up and get him somewhere safe," Dís said. "Nobody but you will know where he is."

Gimli nodded and let Nori lead the way out of the Heart Chamber. Out in the corridors, a large portion of lights that had been fueled by the Elf was now dark, and Dwarves could be heard panicking as, for the first time in their lives, things stopped working properly. No doubt there would be several problems still in getting the captured Prince to safety, but at least Legolas wouldn't be somewhere that Thraín could reach him any longer. Gimli tightened his grip on the Elf in his arms and hoped that the newest wounds wouldn't leave Legolas crippled for life.


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short but I was feeling anxious about where I last left off. Also, I'm again being a responsible adult and writing at work.... yaaaaay!

The fact that the lights throughout the mountain were unreliable now that Legolas was removed from his torture contraption ended up being more than a little fortunate. More than once Nori had pulled them into a shadow or stopped them from leaving a dark stairwell to keep from being seen. The delays added to an already tense trip, but Gimli was sure that they had been spotted a few times by very startled looking Dwarves despite being careful. Gimli hoped very much that those that saw them would keep their mouths shut. Or at the very least think they had been halucinating or something.

Nori and Ori took Gimli to their small house. The brothers all lived in the same apartment that their mother had raised them, which was a stone's throw from the western guardroom and wedged under a wide set of stairs with one neighbor pressing in on the left side. 

Gimli was certain that the Ri house was only going to be a temporary stop so when Nori pushed open the back of a closet to reveal a dark hole beyond, he was understandably startled. The hole wasn't very large and only reached the middle of Gimli's chest in height and perhaps half a foot wider than that. Gimli could just make out a mix of wooden planks and stone floor in front of him. "You have a hidden room?" he asked as Ori rummaged around for an old oil lamp to light.

"Well, it weren't anythin' so grand as a 'room' at first. Jus' a little hidey hole really. But Bofur helped me make it bigger," Nori explained. "Watch yer step though."

Ori brought forth the lamp and Gimli awkwardly ducked down to get through the hole. Instantly he saw why he was warned about watching his step. Although there was a wooden platform to stand on, it abruptly ended in a drop off after only two feet. Gimli cautiously peered over the side of the platform and saw nothing but darkness below. Hot air gusted upwards and Gimli pulled back, still holding Legolas close. "Are you sure this is safe?" he asked.

"Oh sure," Nori said as he used the lantern that Ori handed through to him to light another lamp. Gimli saw that a makeshift bed had been tucked into a freshly carved hole in the side of the air shaft. The bed was mostly fabric bundled together but the alcove was long enough for even an elf. "Bofur said he built the platform strong enough to take Bombur jumpin' on it. We didn' test tha' but I'm pretty sure it can handle a twiggy elf."

Gimli crossed the platform and gently laid Legolas down before stroking his long golden hair back. The Elf was still distant but Gimli hoped he would come around. "Where did you cut this out of?" Gimli asked.

"The stairs," Nori answered. "Woulda jus' had the platform an' left it at that, but since there's nobody on tha' side Bofur figured we'd be 'remiss' ta not give the Elf a bit more room. Didn' know he knew a word like 'remiss' ta be honest." 

Gimli would have to remember to thank the miner the next time he saw him. Though the wooden platform would have been enough space, Gimli was definitely more comfortable with the idea of stone underfoot than scrap wooden planks. No matter how confident the Urs were in it. Gimli looked around the area again and despite the alterations to the inside of the shaft it appeared as if not even a quarter of the space had been taken. "What is all this anyway?"

"Air shaft to move around the hot air off the furnaces," Ori supplied from where he was still standing in the entrance. 

"See, the vents go all over the mountain and lots of us not lordly types have homes right by them ta keep warmer. Ma got a steal on this place cause a how it's under the stairs all squashed like but we also have the vent running down the whole back wall," Nori explained. "We got one a the warmest houses in the slums."

"Nori!" Ori scolded. "You know Dori doesn't like that word."

"Yeah, well, he's arrested so he can't say nothin' 'bout me using it," Nori replied casually. "Anyway. I was using the ledge there to hide little stuff from the guards if they ever came a knockin' so we only had to make the space a bit bigger for your Elf here."

"He's not my Elf," Gimli muttered in protest.

Nori snorted inelegantly. "Yeah, alright, Gimli. Wha'ever ya say."

Gimli took a clean cloth that Ori handed him and began to clean the blood from Legolas' face. "I think some people saw us carrying him," Gimli said after a few minutes of silence. "They could point the finger at us."

"Nah, they'll probably think they were hallucinating or something because of the lights and everything. An' it's not like ol' Thrain's going to go 'round shouting about how someone kidnapped his prisoner of war that he was abusing," Nori pointed out. "Nah, he'll try and find us all quiet like and take back Legolas without anyone knowing he existed at all."

That was probably supposed to be Nori's way of being comforting but Gimli found his methods very much lacking. But what Thrain was going to do to try and find them could be worried about later. Legolas was still in very rough shape and Gimli would rather do something about it now where Legolas could hopefully feel less of it. "I'll need some bandages," Gimli said as he gently felt the oddly shaped shoulder socket. Just as he suspected the joint was completely dislocated and was already quickly swelling. 

"Here, let me help," Nori said as he crouched down beside Gimli. The redheaded Dwarf nodded his thanks and carefully but firmly gripped Legolas' arm. Relocating his shoulder was a fairly simply procedure but actually doing it was a lot more difficult than knowing what he'd have to do. Just the noise of bones scraping and cartilage cracking made Gimli want to stop immediately. He forced the joint back into its socket anyway despite how he felt vaguely ill afterwards. 

Nori and Gimli held the Elf's arm and shoulder in place as Ori, returned with only slightly discolored bandages that were nonetheless clean, wrapped the arm tightly in place. Between the three of them it was quick work to completely immobilize Legolas' limb. "I'll get something for his bruises too," Ori murmured as he eyed the discolorations marring the pale skin. 

"Thanks, Ori," Gimli said as he shifted the battered Elf in his arms and lap. Gimli was still very worried about Legolas' back but there wasn't much that he could really do about it. Nor would there be any indication of how badly Legolas had been hurt until he woke back up. Nori was quiet from where he had moved back to lean next to the entrance to their hiding place while Ori hurried off to get more medical supplies.

Once Ori was out of hearing range Nori cleared his throat. "You know, he's prob'ly not gonna be moving again, right?" he asked. 

Gimli couldn't help but glare. "We don't know that. Who knows what sort of healing magic the Elves have at their disposal."

Nori sighed. "Come on, Gimli... his spine's broke eight times. I'm surprised he didn' just die from it." Gimli didn't have a reply for that despite really wanting one. Nori had a point. If it had been a Dwarf or a man they were talking about, Gimli would be happy with just survival but Legolas was an Elf and who knew what else they could do or survive.

Ori returned with his arms full of medical supplies and then disappeared again. Ori ended up taking three trips in total to bring in bandages, healing ointments, steaming hot water, and even a few extra blankets. "I'm not sure if it'll be warm enough for him in here. We thought it would because of the hot air being vented but even if he doesn't need these I figured you could use it for more cushion under him," Ori explained as Gimli cleaned and treated the cuts and bruises on Legolas' face. 

"Thanks, Ori. I appreciate it," Gimli said.

"Come on, Ori," Nori said. "We shouldn' be jus' standin' here all wide open and all. Door should stay closed as much as possible." Ori frowned a little but nodded and got to his feet. "Once things settle we'll plan how ta get 'im outta the mountain fer good," Nori added to Gimli before the brothers left.

Once the door was closed it was much darker and somehow quieter even though it hadn't been particularly noisy to begin with. Gimli turned up the lantern so that he could better see what he was doing and then went back to tending to Legolas' wounds. He didn't know how long it would take for the Elf to wake up again. Gimli well remembered the horrible scene of Legolas' forest turned into a twisted horrible parody of itself. He very much doubted that would bode well for the Elf.

Gimli wiped the blood away from Legolas' scalp where there used to be hair and gently stroked back the blonde that was left. "You'll be alright," Gimli assured the Elf. Now that he wasn't running all over to try and save Legolas and avoid detection while doing it, the tea he had drank earlier was combining with the heat rising from the forges and the dim light to make Gimli tired. 

He managed to stay awake long enough to clean all of the blood away and cover all the Elf's wounds with bandages or ointment depending on the severity of them. Gimli pulled the blanket up to Legolas' chin and hoped that his charge was at least more comfortable than he had been. Gimli closed his eyes with the intent to just rest them for a moment but almost instantly fell asleep beside Legolas.


	52. Chapter 52

The forest was even less like it should have when Gimli appeared again. The foliage of the trees had disintegrated entirely and left behind only skeletal fingers being twisted and bent in the howling wind. The ground beneath his feet crunched like burnt through logs. Gimli didn't like how the world of Legolas' mind kept deteriorating and so hurried through the dying forest towards the clearing as fast as he could. Everything green had turned to grey and black while anything remotely soft and alive had disappeared.

Gimli could even taste the ash in the air and could smell the distinct cold burn of something highly acidic although he had no idea what it could be caused by. He pushed through the dead bushes and clambered over fallen logs as fast as he could manage. Gimli stumbled over jagged rocks that seemed to have sprouted like teeth along the trail but managed to not slip. 

When Gimli finally burst through the treeline, he was taken aback by the sight of the clearing. The grass was gone, and the lounge split in half as if struck by lightning. Two jagged boulders had appeared blocking off most of the glade and now formed a cave. And what was most alarming was that the Elf was not where Gimli had left him. "Legolas!" Gimli called.

From within the cave Gimli could hear snarls and sputtering. That pit was the only place that Legolas could be, and something dangerous was in there as well. Without considering that he didn't have a weapon here, Gimli hurled himself into the triangular mouth of the cave with a roar.

In the dank of the cave, Gimli made out the sight of some hunched figure on top of another made entirely of pale starlight. Gimli dropped his shoulder and slammed into the attacking creature's side. Whatever it was yelped and snarled as it was sent sprawling. There was a pained gasp followed immediately by coughing, and Gimli glanced down beneath him to see Legolas with marks already appearing around his slender throat in the shape of fingers.

Gimli felt rage building even as he moved between the crouched figure and the still gasping Elf. "What the hell are you?" Gimli demanded as he found a heavy rock on the cave floor and picked it up in case he needed to bash the thing's head in.

"That's not very nice," the creature said.

Gimli made a face at the sound of the voice. The beast spoke softly like a hiss, but that couldn't hide the fact that there was a cold and sour tone within it. Some evilness that was evident in his voice made Gimli want to back away, but he held his ground to protect Legolas. "How did you get here?" A pair of large glowing eyes looked back at him. They were a sickly bile yellow color and held slit pupils like a predator.

"The much better question is how you got here," the creature said. Gimli almost winced at the high pitched whine that the thing used while saying certain words. The grating noise reminded Gimli of rocks being ground against a glass, and it set his teeth on edge. The thing inhaled loudly and wetly through his mouth and Gimli only just managed to not cringe.

Gimli heard Legolas wheeze through his bruised throat and reached back with his empty hand to lay a comforting hand on his chest. "Why did you attack Legolas?"

The creature laughed a laugh that was like a small animal being gutted. "Is it really that hard to realize?" It asked with dark amusement.

Gimli didn't think anything about the situation was amusing. "Get out of here and leave Legolas alone."

"Oh, I can't do that," the creature hissed. "If anyone doesn't belong here it's you, dwarf. Leave the pathetic, weakling Elf to his fate."

"Not a chance."

There was near silence in the cave. The loudest noise was Legolas' occasional coughs and the creature's open-mouthed panting. Gimli wanted to attack the monster that had tried to kill Legolas but also couldn't risk leaving the wounded Elf's side long enough to do it. He shifted the rock in his hand thoughtfully and tried to mentally gauge how far the mouth of the cave was from where they were.

Gimli didn't know if he could grab Legolas and get out in the time it would take for whatever their attacker was to recover from an attack. There was a faint scratching noise from where the creature was hunched in the darkest of the cave's shadows. The monster hissed, "Why do you even care what happens to it? Surely it would be easier to just let it die."

"No," Gimli said firmly. "I will not just let him die. If anything is an 'it' here it is you, monster."

The creature 'tsk'ed several times as if disappointed. "Such name-calling. Very rude, dirt licker," It said. Gimli nearly lost track of the thing when it blinked but the glowing eyes opening again gave Gimli a place to focus on. He didn't like the eyes at all. They were unsettling and sickly, but they were also a dead give away to the creature's location.

Gimli tightened his grip on the rock he had in his hand. "You still haven't told me what you are," he growled. "So what else am I supposed to call you but a monster?"

The thing laughed again and made uncomfortable chills go down Gimli's spine. "Well then. If it's between a name and 'monster,' I suppose I can tell you something," It said. "You can call me... Let's go with Legagh."

Gimli felt his blood run ice cold in his veins. Legagh was a distinctive name. A very unpleasantly distinctive name. Every syllable seemed twisted and foul just like the voice that spat it out. Nothing wholesome would be called something like that. The only creatures that did were things that Gimli would not tolerate to exist here.

Without hesitation, Gimli tossed the rock hard at where those two eyes were. Legagh dodged, but Gimli was already launching another attack. He grabbed the spindly but surprisingly muscled creature and wrestled with it. Jagged nails ripped into Gimli's arms even as the Dwarf used every bit of his strength to throw the thing out of the cave bodily.

In the dim stormy light of outside of the cave, Gimli could finally see the monster clearly. Pale, stringy hair lay flat and thin across a slightly lumpy skull. Those unsettling eyes were too large in a vaguely familiar face and set between them was a nose that was clearly bent too far to one side. The goblin was forced to breathe through his mouth, showing off teeth so chipped apart and stained they didn't look like real teeth any longer. Long pointed ears were ragged as if some small rodents had gnawed on them. Deep but shiny white scars crossed the creature's tightly stretched grey skin, and his shoulder was oddly misformed. But the worst part was the several black spikes jutting from the creature's spine and oozing tar-like puss from beneath.

"You can't have him," Gimli growled with his fists ready.

Legagh smiled, showing blackened gums that bled darkly. "Foolish, Naug... he's the weak one. I'm the strong. There is nothing of him left to save."

"If that were true you wouldn't have been trying to kill him," Gimli pointed out. 

Legagh hissed in annoyance. "Just go away, Naug. This isn't any of your business."

"It is so. I promised him I wouldn't let him be hurt anymore."

"And you've kept that promise just _fantastically_ ," Legagh said nastily. "But here's the mithril lining. Once I finish he won't have to suffer any longer. His tender self will be gone, and you won't have to nurse him ever again."

Gimli really wished he had his axe. He would wedge it deep into Legagh's skull and end his poison at the source. Legagh seemed to realize Gimli's murderous desires and grinned wide. "Oh, what's the matter? It is your people that made me. You should be so glad that I'm about to win."

"You won't win so long as I'm here," Gimli swore.

"You can't stay here forever," Legagh pointed out. "You'll wake up, and he'll be helpless to fight against me. And then the sweet prince will be gone for good, and it will be my turn."

"Not if I kill you first."

Legagh laughed in that painful high-pitched way he had. "This is my realm, shining hero. You'll never beat me here. The only one that could is that pathetic pile of useless flesh you're so desperate for," he said pointing one jagged nail at the cave Gimli was standing in front of.

"He's kept you away so far," Gimli pointed out heatedly.

"Yes. He's a stubborn one, I will give him that. But it was a losing battle the minute those chains went around his wrists," Legagh said as he moved slowly to the side. Gimli moved with him, not about to let the goblin get past him to the still vulnerable Legolas. "You cannot protect him from the inevitable. I'll never be gotten rid of now."

Gimli's hands hurt from how tightly his fists were clenched. "You underestimate Dwarves if you think I won't stay between you and him for the rest of time."

"You'll die, Dwarf. You'll die and be trapped here in his head with me forever."

"But he'll be safe."

"He can't even twitch, and you think he'll be safe?" Legagh asked with a delighted smile. "The Dwarf King will find him again and then not even you can stand between him and me. I'll rip the little prince to shreds and then all that will be left will be me."

"I won't let you, wretch."

Legagh snorted -an unpleasant and mostly clogged sound due to his bent nose. "His fea is in shreds, and he's in unending pain because of it. Do you really want to leave him like that? Just to spite me? He wants to let me win. I can feel it."

"It isn't unending pain," Gimli said, taking a step closer to the orc that looked unnervingly like Legolas. "Once he's free his pain will be over."

"Is that truly what you believe?" Legagh asked. He sounded disappointed even as he shifted to keep the distance between Gimli and himself the same. "Sad, pathetic, Dwarf. You're just as naive as the weakling Elf. Now that I am here... he will never be without me. His pain will not end until I win. That is as infallible as the accursed sun in the sky."

"Then I'll just have to kill you."

Legagh scoffed, "What part of 'never without me' was unclear?"

"Orcs are liars," Gimli spat angrily. "I don't trust you. You'd say anything to make me give up on him. But I won't. He's stronger than you. I know it." He couldn't really explain how he knew it, but he did. Legolas had lasted this long there was no way he would just roll over and give up now. Even if he did want to, Gimli wouldn't allow it. 

"You're delusional, Gimli," Legagh said in a voice that sounded like he was trying to make it sweeter and kinder but failed miserably. "And prolonging his suffering is not heroic. Just ask him... he'll tell you. He doesn't want to be here anymore."

Gimli only barely kept himself from launching another attack at the monster in front of him. "He doesn't want to be hurt anymore, and he won't be. I'll protect him."

"Like you protected him last time?" Legagh asked with a cruel laugh. He backed further away from the irate Dwarf. "I can't wait to see how well you do this time. Your utter failure will definitely allow me to win." Gimli lunged but before his fist could connect Legagh had scampered away like the vermin he was. His laugh grated on Gimli's nerves even as his twisted form disappeared into the dark.

Gimli glared at where the creature disappeared for a moment before turning and hurrying back into the cave. Legolas was still lying limp on the ground, and Gimli quickly gathered the Elf in his arms. "Legolas, I'm here. It's alright now," he said as he checked the bruises around Legolas' neck. He cursed Legagh mentally even as he brushed Legolas' hair from his face. "You're safe, Legolas. I promise you that. I won't let him touch you again."

“Gimli.”

“I’m here,” Gimli confirmed as he held the still frighteningly limp Elf in his lap.

“You chased him away,” Legolas said, sounding bewildered and slightly confused.

“Of course, I did.”

“Why?”

Legolas’ voice was broken, and soft and it made Gimli want to weep for him. Legolas hadn’t done anything to deserve such treatment. Not now and not ever. Gimli couldn’t imagine anyone having done something so bad to have been tormented like Legolas had been. “Because I wasn’t about to let him kill you. I’m not going to let him win.”

“But… Gimli… What use is there?” Legolas asked, his blue eyes watery with tears. “I can’t feel anything. I do not want to live like this.”

“Hey now-”

“Gimli, I can’t feel anything!” Legolas repeated more hysterically. “I know you are holding me and yet I can’t feel your arms. I can’t, Gimli! Everything is dead and I cannot so much as move! I can’t-“

Gimli cut the Elf’s hysteria off with his lips. Legolas stared in shock as Gimli’s mouth covered his own, and he was vaguely aware of his heart not genuinely slowing but settling into an ever so slightly less erratic pace. Gimli kept the kiss soft and broke it once he was sure he had gotten Legolas’ full attention. “You felt that didn’t you?” he asked softly.

Legolas closed his eyes tightly, and Gimli silently brushed away the tears that escaped with his thumb. “You should not have done that,” Legolas whispered. “Not after what has happened.”

“I’ll kiss who I want, thank you,” Gimli said. “And you didn’t answer me. You felt that didn’t you?” Legolas nodded. “Then I’d say all isn’t lost just yet. Once these spikes are free of your body, you may yet recover. Elvish healing can work miracles, can’t it? That’s what I’ve always heard.”

“There has never been anything inflicted like this,” Legolas whispered. “I do not know if it is even possible. And… I would rather not live confined to a prison of a body for the rest of my endless days.”

Gimli sighed but nodded. He couldn’t say he would be any happier. “I know. But, until that point… let us choose to hope. Do not come here without me, Legolas. I will keep that villain away from you. Stay awake when I am so that he cannot take over. I swear I will protect you.”

Legolas was quiet for a moment and closed his eyes again to gather his scattered and still somewhat hysteria driven thoughts. “It… would be easier if you just let him come,” he said.

“He’ll kill you!” Gimli nearly shouted in protest. “I won’t allow it.”

Legolas didn’t open his eyes. “If… If I become him-If I am but a-an Orc… then you will be able to kill me without fear or guilt. Even… even my father will understand why you did it. That you had no choice.”

“Legolas! If I let him win that is as much guilt as if I took an axe to you now. I would have failed you still if I allow Legagh to take you,” Gimli argued. “And I’ll hear nothing else about it. Swear to me you won’t come here without me!”

“Gimli-”

“Swear it, Legolas Thranduilion!”

Legolas flinched ever so slightly at the use of his full name before inclining his head slightly. “If that is your wish… but only if you swear something in return.”

“Name it.”

Legolas finally opened his eyes and despite the tears still brimming over his lashes his gaze was hard again. “If I cannot be healed… you will not force me to endure this… farce of a life.” Gimli hesitated. “I will have your word on this, Gimli. Because I will not be this-this thing!”

Gimli studied the Elf in his lap and slowly nodded. He knew Legolas would never be happy like this and so if nothing else worked, Gimli couldn’t in good conscience force him to endure it. “I swear I won’t,” Gimli promised.


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised I'd have a chapter up today on twitter and dang it I was gonna deliver. Everyone step back for the Thrain Crazy Train that's barrelling past please. It doesn't stop for anything. Not even innocent civilians.

Thraín was nearly beside himself with utter fury. Not only does that blonde twat of a King insult him but then he _throws a knife into his eye_. Blood and other unpleasant fluids were streaming down his face and staining his beard, and imagining wringing that pixie bastard's neck was all that was keeping Thraín calm enough to let the healers work on him. The eye was a lost cause, obviously, but there could be a lot more damage done if they didn't get the dagger out carefully. Óin would really be best at this, but considering the situation with his traitor of a son, Thorin, Thraín wasn't about to involve anyone he didn't absolutely trust. 

Dark thoughts of revenge swirled in his mind as the healers slowly inched the blade out of his skull. He could hear the scraping of a knife against bone, but Thraín focused on his fantasies instead of the disturbing reality of his own situation. Many possibilities were coming to him, but Thraín rather liked the poetry of sending Thranduil his own brat's eyes skewered on the knife that he himself had attacked with. Thraín's lips curled into a smile even as they finally got the full blade out of his face. Yes, that idea greatly appealed to him. And it would have the bonus benefit of eliminating the need for one of the masks. Well, unless Thraín wanted to cover the gaping holes left behind, he supposed. Personally, he didn't much care one way or the other since the Elf had never suffered anything so _mortal_ as an infection before.

The healers began to clean away the ruined remains of Thraín's eye even as the King fantasized with a bit too much detail how he would enjoy waving the knife in the Princeling's face and making absolutely sure the Elf knew where it had come from. He would love for that to be the last thing his captive ever saw. Very poetic to his maddened mind.

The lights flickered, and Thraín scowled. Now, what was going on? The healers put ointments and gauze on his wound to help with the damage and halt the bleeding as the lights flickered again and continued to do so. "Would someone stop that damned light from flashing?" he growled. He already had enough of a headache without the lights going crazy in front of him adding to the annoyance.

A few apprentices rushed to the light fixtures, but they had no idea what they were even looking at. Only those trained under Rugnar had any clue as to how the various lights that were not flamed based worked. King Thraín snapped another few orders to hurry up and to stop the lights from malfunctioning as his already ill temper worsened.

Finally, one healer turned to the King. He didn't want to say it, but hopefully, the King would accept the truth of the situation. "T-the light seems to b-be flickering even... even _inside_ the-the cable, My King."

Thraín's scowl darkened. "That's impossible," he snapped as he batted away at the healers trying to wrap his head in bandages. For the cables to be flickering, there would have to be a problem at the Heart. There would have to be some problem with-

The lights powered by the Prince went out entirely, and Thraín jumped to his feet with a roar of fury. Something _was_ going on. He stormed out of the healing chambers with only a gauzy patch that was already turning red over his wound. The lights in the halls were struggling to stay lit, and Thraín could swear he already felt the mountain cooling as the furnaces started to sputter from lack of fuel. Thraín saw _red_ if there was one thing he absolutely could not stand, it was a loss of productivity. They were Dwarves! Being industrious was what they _were_. Their crafts were everything to them.

Thraín's grip tightened on the dagger he hadn't even realized he had grabbed. The carved handle of the weapon was slick with his own blood, and he was of a mind to add to it. The damned Elf couldn't be dead yet, and Thraín had ensured that the captive couldn't do anything on his own, so there had to be some other sort of interference. He _knew_ there had to be other conspirators. This was the undeniable proof he was entirely justified.

Several guards fell in alongside their King as he stormed the halls. Many civilians saw him, but he didn't notice their horrified looks or how they made sure to keep pressed close to the walls of the corridors as he passed. The idea of his people being afraid of him never even occurred to him as a possibility. He was their King and provided them with security and prosperous conditions.

When he saw the door to the chamber open at the end of the hall, Thraín growled aloud. That door had absolutely no reason to be open! He kicked the heavy gold plated door with one foot as he entered and it swung hard enough to hit the wall. He saw instantly the severed cords on the floor and the guards he had left while he dealt with _Thranduil_ unconscious in a corner. The Elf was gone, and only the jewel they had been preparing for when he inevitably died was now keeping the mountain running. Thraín _roared_ , sounding not unlike a dragon in his rage and flung the dagger hard but without a target.

The blade hit the wall and snapped off even as Thraín whipped around. "Find out who did this!" he ordered his guards. "And find the Elf! He can't be far! The damn thing's crippled!" The guards jumped and hurried to do their King's bidding. They were just glad that he'd already thrown the knife and not at them.

Thraín glared at the crumpled guards in the corner and vowed to get what happened out of each and every single one, and Mahal help them if even one tried to lie to him. But he already knew who had to be behind this. It was apparent as a diamond in a gold pile. Thraín's already diminished vision narrowed even further with his anger as he headed down into the bowels of the mountain.

Again the civilians jumped out of the way of their King, and yet he still didn't even notice. His boots slammed against each step as he descended to the oldest section of the mountain where the strongest cells were built. Back from when they weren't concerned with using excessive materials just to be 'extra sure' that someone couldn't escape. Pointless now that they were all stuck inside the mountain. 

Thraín reached Thorin's cell and slammed his fist against the bars. Thorin seemed taken aback, but Thraín barely registered that. "You think yourself clever, boy?" Thraín snarled. "You're anything but!"

"What- Father, what happened to your eye?" Thorin asked, his own perfectly intact eyes wide with shock.

Thraín slammed his fist against the bars again. "Your little fairy friend outside," he hissed. "Now where did you put the Prince?"

Thorin's confusion slipped back behind an impassive mask, and he folded his arms over his chest. "I don't know where he is," Thorin said. "And, even if I did know, since I doubt you're not going to give him back to his Father, I wouldn't tell you."

"Thorin! If you do not tell me, you will come to regret it! You'll be sentencing all our people to slow starvation!" Thraín raged.

"If you would have just given Thranduil his son we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place," Thorin replied. "I may not like the Elf King, but he wasn't the first to dent this particular piece of iron."

Thraín almost swore actual fire was coming from his face with how angry he was. "That pompous bastard did so start this!" he shouted. "He is the one that kept raising and raising the price of the goods he was trading! It was unreasonable the payment he wanted. He was the one that wouldn't negotiate!"

"After kidnapping his son he wouldn't negotiate prices of grain with you, how very shocking!" Balin piped up from further down the hall. Thraín glared into the dark at where he knew the old adviser was. "I wouldn't have negotiated with us either after that!" 

"He never negotiates anything," Thraín argued before turning back to Thorin. "He killed my son, your brother!" Thorin couldn't quite help the flinch that statement caused. The loss still hurt terribly and probably always would. "Tell me where the Elf Prince is, and we can pay him back in kind, Thorin."

"I won't let you kill the Elf," Thorin said quietly.

Surprisingly, Thraín smiled but not in a way Thorin found at all comforting. "Of course not, Thorin," he said almost pleasantly. "We'll let his father do that."

Thorin's blood ran like ice water. "...What?"

"Well, what would you do when you saw a scrawny, disgusting, orc coming running at you, Thorin?" Thraín asked. "Even if that pompous ass realizes beforehand it isn't as if that'll change anything."

"You would do that to someone? Force them to kill their own son after torture beyond reason?" Thorin demanded, his voice starting to increase in volume with his outrage. This wasn't what he wanted when he thought of his brother. Thorin never wanted his little brother's memory tainted by such heinous actions.

"He killed Frerin! It's justice!"

"It's not justice!" Balin shouted back. "It doesn't even count as revenge! It's cruelty plain and simple!"

"You need to step down, your highness," Óin said. "You're not well at all if these are the thoughts you are having."

Thraín whipped around to glare at the healer. "I'm perfectly well, save this eye that I will be getting payment back for, mark my words."

"Well, you won't be doing it with my help, My King," Thorin said with the slightest of bows. Just enough to make it obviously mocking. He usually wouldn't do such a thing, but his respect for his father was rapidly disappearing the more and more of his depravity was revealed. As if holding an innocent being captive for three hundred years wasn't bad enough to deliberately do so knowing the outcome and then using that as another weapon against a grieving father was entirely... monstrous. Thorin hated that it was becoming easier to believe that his Father really was legitimately crazed.

Thraín narrowed his one eye and growled low in the back of his throat. "We will see how superior you feel tomorrow when your sentence is carried out," he said.

Thorin straightened again. "And what sentence might that be?"

"Your sentence for treason. Since you dislike your home so much... you can leave it. Let the Elves you love so much keep you. I hope you enjoy their _hospitality_ ," Thraín spat before turning on his heel and storming back up the stairs.

There was silence for a moment. "I wasn't expecting banishment," Dwalin said after even the echoes of the King's footsteps faded. "Was sure we were for the axe."

"Without Fíli and Kíli secure here with him, I suppose he doesn't feel he can risk executing us," Balin mused.

"I shall have to thank my nephews for running off and somehow sparing my life in the process," Thorin grumbled. After he scolded them for running off into potential danger without even a speck of concern for their own welfare, of course.

"Do you think he's somehow going to link this to Dís?" Dwalin asked.

"Depends on how 'hands on' she got," Thorin grumbled. "You know how she is."

"He won't be able to do much to Lady Dís," Balin assured them. "Not with her being the only other royal family member in the mountain. She may get imprisoned, but he wouldn't dare do anything more. The people will accept much but not unwarranted familicide."

"He wouldn't view it as unwarranted," Dori pointed out. "Not with how he was talking to Prince Thorin just now." 

"It is unwarranted. Releasing someone unjustly imprisoned is not deserving of anything but praise," Balin said. "And since Thraín would never admit to doing anything like this, to begin with, he has no reason whatsoever."

"Even if he locks her up, Dís won't say anything," Thorin stated with surety. "The look on her face when she first saw the Elf makes that clear. Like she was looking at one of the boys lying there."

"So, we bettin' on if Dís was the one that thought this up?" Dwalin asked.

"That's a fool's bet, brother," Balin replied.

"Not necessarily," Dwalin argued.

"Yes, it is," Thorin said. "She's right in the thick of this mess, and we all know it."

"I'll be sure to let her know you said that, your Highness," came a new voice in a whisper from the stairs.

The Dwarves straightened as the Hobbit scampered into view. "Mr. Baggins!" Dori beamed.

"You would give me over to my sister's tender mercies, Master Baggins? How very cruel," Thorin said although he couldn't deny he was glad to see the little burglar. 

Bilbo harrumphed and folded his arms. "Perhaps you would deserve it," he said. "Not for all of this," he added quickly, "but I'm sure you've done something in your life you could still use a good walloping for." 

Thorin couldn't entirely fight the smile. "You wound me, Master Baggins. I am always the picture of princely decorum." That received a huge snort of derision from his best friend across the hall. Thorin cast Dwalin a half-hearted glare. "How go things?" he asked Bilbo a bit more seriously than before.

"Well, Legolas is hidden. Only Gimli, Nori and Ori know where and I don't see any of them saying anything," Bilbo informed. "I doubt Princess Dís will remain out of her father's attention for long though. She ordered the guards to silence when she took Legolas away but..."

"They were loyal to the King," Balin surmised.

Bilbo nodded in agreement. "I think she knows too. She's busy writing all sorts of letters and notes and having them run all over by Loni. Who seems very glad to have something to do, if I'm being honest."

"Dís always was the one that was able to plan," Balin said with pride.

"I can plan," Thorin protested. Balin lifted one bushy white eyebrow and Thorin did his best to not shift uncomfortably. "I can if I feel the need to," he stubbornly insisted.

"Of course, my Prince," Balin said.

"Anyway," Bilbo said before Thorin could try to think of a time where he'd managed a successful plan of his own design. "Legolas was really badly hurt. He won't be able to get out of the mountain under his own power, but Gimli is staying with him for now."

Thorin narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure that the only ones that know where he is are those three Dwarrow, Master Burglar?"

Bilbo cleared his throat and adjusted his coat in an oddly adorable way. "Yes, well, I didn't see _exactly_ where they put him. But I know Gimli didn't come back out again. I didn't stick around to watch nothing, so I came to find you. Didn't think the King would be in the best mood after losing an eye."

"He wasn't," Dwalin agreed.

"Did King Thranduil really do that?" Dori asked.

Bilbo sighed and nodded. "Thraín said something about tearing Legolas apart and Thranduil just seemed to... snap," Bilbo tried to explain. "One minute he was calm the next there was a dagger in Thraín's eye. Of course, it was chaos after and the Elves had to back away, but I guess Thranduil got his point across."

"He's lucky you were already moving Legolas," Óin grumbled. "Could have killed his son with that stunt."

"Maybe that would have been a relief," Balin murmured. When he saw the others staring at him, Balin cleared his throat. "He's been trying to get to his son for three hundred years with no success. I'll guarantee anything it is only Legolas' continued survival that is holding him back from unleashing more than just catapults against the mountain. And... if Legolas were dead and least that would be an end to it. Not the ideal end, clearly, but an end."

"That is incredibly morbid, Mr. Balin," Dori said. "I wish you hadn't said it."

"Morbid... but probably true," Thorin commented.

"Well, that didn't happen," Bilbo said firmly. "Legolas is alive and so are we. So we've got to finish trying to figure out how to get him out of here."

"My father will be banishing us tomorrow," Thorin said.

"Banished?" Bilbo echoed in surprise.

"Yes, I suppose he can't think of a good enough reason to have me executed that others will accept. Or won't risk it without Fíli and Kíli around," Thorin explained. "But, when we are set out I'll go speak with Thranduil, and we'll get this sorted once and for all. Of course, we have to get to him first. Usually, Dwarves that are exiled, the few times that has happened, they were stuck between the mountain and the Elves. They cross some invisible line, and the Elves would shoot them, but they couldn't go anywhere else either. I'd appreciate that not happening to us."

"I'll make sure you aren't shot dead, Thorin," Bilbo promised. "It would be a shame to waste all of your 'princely decorum' in such a way."


	54. Chapter 54

Even though exile a highly unusual fate to dispatch on any dwarf in the mountain it had happened enough times that it had become a crowd puller. For the shortest time, the doors would actually open, and the general population would be able to see the world beyond the mountain. It was only a small glimpse, but it was all that most in Erebor could ever hope to have. The door would be opened just enough for the exile, or in this case, exiles, to be ushered out and then closed again. 

The entire process had to be timed very carefully because if a boulder from the Elven Catapults were to hit the non-barred gates, it could quite easily cause so much more damage and possibly allow the Elves in. They could only crack open the doors when the Elves were reloading their machines. Luckily for the Dwarves, the gaps were somewhat predictable.

Thorin and his captured conspirators had been dragged out of their cells and escorted to the main hall. He glared at the Heart Chamber doors but couldn't help but be proud that they'd already at least removed the Elf Prince from the contraption. He just hoped that Dís wouldn't be punished too severely. Guards were stationed on all but one side of the group of soon-to-be-exiles, with only the front leading to the gates open to them.

The process of unbarring the gates took some time and -while the gatekeepers remembered how- their guarded presence in the main hall attracted the attention of passers-by. Rumors quickly started flying around the mountain and more gathered nearby.

Thorin did his best to not look bothered as muttering and whispering built with every new Dwarf that joined the audience. Knowing he was about to be pushed from his home in disgrace was terrible. Knowing that he might very well be killed by the Elves just out of spite was worse. But the absolute worst part of the entire situation was having to stand there while his people tried -and could only fail- to guess what was going on. Thorin wondered what trumped up charge that his father would lay down to explain this exile but tried his best not to. It didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. The excuse would only affect how many people thought the punishment justified. The more outlandish, the fewer people would believe Thraín's story.

Unbarring the gates took several cycles of impacts to work out. Thorin had never noticed how unsettlingly like a heartbeat the constant noise then predictable pauses sounded like until he really started listening to them. Considering what they had found in the center of the mountain, Thorin couldn't help but feel the pattern to be horribly guilt-inducing. Each impact reminded him how they had been sucking the life from an innocent being for their own greed and that turned his stomach. In that way, he was actually glad to be able to leave his home even though he had every intention of returning.

King Thraín appeared before them, and Thorin struggled to remain impassive. Yelling at his father wouldn't help anything and would only really serve to make him look insane if he went ranting about captured Elves. Especially since said Elf had been hidden away.

Thorin had never seen such contempt on his father's face as Thraín looked over them. The crowd fell silent almost immediately as Thraín dressed in all his regal finery held up a many-ringed hand. "For crimes of conspiracy against Erebor and the crown, wanton sabotage that endangers the very livelihood of her people and security of our way of life, Thorin known as Oakenshield, son of Thraín, son of Thrór, and his company of conspirators are hereby stripped of their stations and exiled from Erebor."

There was a long silence where Thorin tried to not show how much those words actually hurt. He wasn't against his people in any way. He was trying to help them. To ensure that they actually had a future worth living rather than hiding within the Lonely Mountain like cowardly criminals. "Anything to say for yourself?" Thraín demanded.

"Only that I'm not against the people of Erebor," Thorin said. "And that your crimes will come to light and be punished in time, Father."

Thraín glared and gestured with his hand at the door. "You are no son of mine. Open the gates! Get these traitors from my sight before I throw them from the battlements!" There was plenty of murmuring as the King turned and stormed away. 

The gates opened slowly, groaning each inch that they moved from lack of use. Each moment revealed just a bit more of the world in front of them. The brown and green patchwork of grass that was spread out between the mountain and Dale was interrupted by massive boulders that had carved out divots into the ground over the years. For some reason, a very unwelcome thought came to Thorin's mind, he suddenly imagined those bits and pieces of rock as grave markers. Enough Dwarves had died to make it seem somehow reasonable.

Thorin was fairly sure the Elves wouldn't kill him, but he really would prefer to be leaving _with_ the missing Prince to guarantee that. But with the way exiles were performed, there was just no way they would have been able to get Legolas out. The crowd was in the way, and the door was open for so little time they just wouldn't have had the chance. Not to mention the logistics of just trying to get the Elf to the main hall in the first place without getting caught. The lighting around Erebor was still uneven due to losing the connection with Legolas, but Thorin doubted it was spotty enough to be able to get the Elf out the front door as bold as anything. He had absolutely no idea how Bilbo could keep sneaking around the mountain without getting caught. It made no sense.

Thorin was pulled from his thoughts and from staring at the outside as Thraín snapped out an order from somewhere in the distance. The guards closed in around the group of Dwarves until they were forced closer to the door. Thorin said nothing but not all of his companions were as silent. Protests were being shouted back and forth, and Thorin was glad to see that some of the observers were also voicing displeasure. When the gap in the massive doors was just a few feet wide, the guards advanced further with hands on weapons. 

Being without any weapons or defenses, Thorin and his group had little choice but to leave the mountain. They weren't even entirely through the doors when they started closing again, forcing the group to hurry or else get crushed between the slabs of rock. Though the gates were just as slow to close as they were to open, it felt like only a second before the stone was grinding together in front of them.

Thorin stared at the doors for a moment until the crash of stone against the side of the mountain reminded him that they weren't exactly invulnerable where they were standing. Thorin turned and face the no man's land stretched out in front of him and the distant line of Elven fortifications. A shiver went down his spine, and he reminded himself that they had no reason to want _him_ dead.

"Let's go," Thorin said. "It's a long walk..."

The others followed without protest as Thorin carefully picked his way through the field. He was constantly keeping an eye on the sky both in front of and behind him for any boulders that might be heading their way. As they got further from the mountain, the danger of rocks became less of a worry, and the fear of arrows grew substantially. 

As they finally approached the Elven line, Thorin spotted several rows of archers just waiting and eyeing the exiled Dwarves. They didn't make any move to stop the group of exiles from approaching, but Thorin stayed a few feet away from them nonetheless.

There was a tense silence only broken by the sound of rocks crashing against the mountainside. "I am Thorin Oakenshield," Thorin announced, only just able to hold back the habit of including his title and father's name. He wasn't allowed to use those anymore. "I would speak with your King."

A blonde elf stepped forward his eyes were hard pieces of shale, but he inclined his head in greeting anyway. "We have been expecting you," he said. "Come with me." The other elves shifted as one silent unit to create a gap in their line for the Dwarves to pass through. Thorin nearly rolled his eyes at the unnecessary display but caught himself. He couldn't really say he wouldn't have done the same sort of thing had their positions been reversed.

The blonde elf that seemed to be a captain or someone led the way through the line and then through the camp. Thorin found the idea of walking back out into no man's land more comforting if he were honest, but he continued through the fortification of elves with as much poise and dignity as he could possibly muster. He was the one doing the right thing here, after all. 

"Uncle!"

Thorin barely caught sight of Kíli before the younger Dwarf was barreling into him. He was nearly thrown from his feet but managed to not be. "Kíli," he almost sighed. It had been a long time since he'd seen his nephew and he was glad to see that he really was unharmed. Fíli had tried to assure them of his brother's general good treatment (aside from the starvation issue), but it wasn't the same as actually seeing the boy.

"Uncle... I'm sorry," Kíli murmured.

"You needn't apologize... although we will be having a talk later," Thorin said. He saw Fíli step up alongside his brother and Thorin clapped a hand on his golden-haired nephew's shoulder. "It is good to see you both."

A she-elf with long auburn hair stepped up to say a few words to their guide and then looked at Thorin. The exiled Prince straightened under the she-elf's gaze and refused to be judged. "Come, the King is waiting," she said before turning.

Thorin squeezed his nephew's shoulders briefly before beginning to walk again. Fíli and Kíli fell into step beside him as if this were just another walk through Erebor. Thorin automatically felt more at ease although having his nephews there would not change matters much if Thranduil decided to kill them or something equally unreasonable.

The building under Thranduil's flag was significantly more prominent than the surrounding ones and was placed on a slight platform although it was still only one story tall and looked a bit battered from how long the obviously meant to be temporary building had stood. The inside of the building was comfortable, and Thranduil was sitting in what could only be described as a throne with antlers on the top. Beside him in a far more modest chair was an old man with a long grey beard and cloak. And standing just beside them –causing Thorin to nearly do a double take- was Bilbo.

"Mr. Bilbo!" Dori exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Bilbo smiled slightly. "Well, I followed you, didn't I?" he said. "The front door is much faster than climbing over the battlements over and over again."

"You followed us," Thorin echoed in disbelief. There hadn't been any sign of the Hobbit the entire time they were being pushed from the mountain, and it wasn't as if there was much room that he could have hidden in. 

Bilbo nodded. "I did indeed. Oh, and I brought this," he said. Bilbo pulled a folded up piece of parchment out of his coat pocket and waved it slightly. Thorin recognized it after a moment and couldn't help but be glad. He had entirely forgotten about the map with everything going on. The ex-Prince wasn't even certain that he'd remembered to put it away before he'd rushed off to see what was wrong with Legolas.

"Very good, Mr. Baggins... although I still have no idea how you could have followed us out of that door with how quickly they closed," Thorin said thoughtfully.

"Fascinating as this is..." Thranduil interrupted before Thorin could continue his line of questions.

"My Lord Thranduil," the redheaded elf greeted. "Thorin Oakenshield and... his party," she introduced.

"It is very good to see you all escaped unharmed," the old man said with a smile that Thorin didn't entirely buy. "I am Gandalf the Grey although your people used to call me another name-"

"Tharkûn," Thorin supplied. "Yes, I've heard of you." He'd also heard a lot about his 'meddlesome ways' although he had no idea how accurate those stories were. Nobody in Erebor had dealt with the Wizard even before the Elven Siege.

"Yes, well, I am glad to see that your Father has only exiled you and not gone further," Gandalf said with a gesture of his pipe towards the mountain.

"The people wouldn't have stood for it," Balin offered. "Not without a compelling reason and proof." Thorin was still very much liked by the majority of their people. 

"Yes, well, you're here now, and that's what matters," Gandalf said. "Now we can solve this unfortunate situation." 

“How exactly do you propose to do that now that Thraín’s son has been exiled from the mountain, Gandalf?” Thranduil asked not sounding terribly pleased.

“Not all of my group was caught and exiled,” Thorin protested. “And they are led by my sister, whom I would not advise underestimating.”

Gandalf leaned forward, drawing the attention of both Thranduil and Thorin away from each other. “I do still believe that the key is within the map,” he said with a gesture to the paper Bilbo had brought. “However we have yet to unlock the secrets that it contains.”

“Then send it to Elrond as you proposed,” Thranduil ordered. “The journey is long, and every second it is delayed my son suffers even more.”

The Dwarves bristled instantly. “Here now!” Balin spoke up. “That map is not yours to send away. It is our property and heritage, not some trinket to be dealt with at your whim.”

Thorin held a hand up to halt Balin’s protest. He didn’t like this situation in the least, but he knew that something had to be done. “There was a proposal to send the map along with one of my nephews and some of your Elves to assure everyone’s satisfactions were met. Are you still willing to do this?”

“I would prefer to send it by bird so that it got there sooner,” Thranduil admitted. “But I will allow the concession if I must.”

“You must,” Thorin replied without hesitation. “Because that’s the only way I’m letting that map go to Lord Elrond.”

There was an awkward tension where both leaders seemed to be judging each other’s determination. Nobody said anything for several minutes and then finally Thranduil nodded ever so slightly. “Wonderful!” Gandalf exclaimed getting to his feet. “And since the journey is long I shall volunteer to escort the party to Rivendell and then back again with Elrond’s advice. Come along, Bilbo,” Gandalf said as he swept out of the room before anyone had a chance to protest the self-appointed job.

Bilbo looked a little bewildered but hurried after the wizard. Thorin heard the beginning of what he imagined were several questions already being asked by the clever burglar. “Uncle… which one of us are you to send?” Fíli asked quietly.

“We’ll discuss it later,” Thorin answered equally softly.

There was more awkwardness as the group of once enemies, and now co-conspirators stood together in Thranduil’s tent. How exactly did one talk to someone they had spent their whole life unjustly cursing, Thorin wondered. "I would have a word with you alone, Thorin Oakenshield," Thranduil said. 

Tauriel stepped forward looking somewhat confused and hesitant. "My Lord, are you certain-"

"I would not have said it if I was not," Thranduil interrupted without taking his eyes off of Thorin. The exiled Dwarves were just as reluctant as the captain of the guard, but Thorin waved them away. Very unhappily, they obeyed their Prince with only a few mutters of dissent.

The Elven King glanced at Tauriel who stiffened slightly. After a moment, she too bowed and made her way to the entrance. Thranduil waited until the tent was vacated and then turned cold eyes back to the exiled Prince before him. "You have something to say. I can tell. Let us get it over with so that we can move on to more important business," he said fingering the long stem of his wineglass. He looked casual, but Thorin didn't trust that in the least. He was fairly sure that nobody who had even the smallest fleck of familial bond could really be casual in a situation like they were in. And they wouldn't be in this situation if Thranduil felt nothing for his son.

"You know... for the longest time, I wanted to wring your scrawny little neck," Thorin said. "I really did. So many good Dwarves have died in this siege. Including my brother."

"... are you expecting an apology of some sort?"

"No," Thorin admitted, although he wasn't happy about it. "I don't think it would be fair of me to expect you to apologize for trying to save your son. I just want you to know that even though I'm helping you... even though I've been exiled for this cause, and I know it to be a just cause, I don't think I will ever forgive you. My brother is dead because of you."

Thranduil was quiet for several minutes. "I can live with that. Lay all the hatred upon me that you wish, Prince Thorin, I will take it all gladly in return for my child."

"Where does this leave us?" Thorin asked.

"Both wanting the same thing," Thranduil said while getting to his feet. "Out of each other's lives with the knowledge that the only way to do that is to get my son out of that mountain prison."

"We'll figure something out," Thorin replied. "I've already got some ideas."

"I assume you mean the map?"

“That,” Thorin agreed, “but also other things.”

Thranduil narrowed his eyes. “What sort of ‘other things,’ Oakenshield?”

Thorin weighed his response carefully before speaking. Any wrong move could prove disastrous not only for him but for his entire people. “Some of my kinsmen has been looking after your son and has hidden him away from my father. I’ll keep them looking for another way to smuggle him from the mountain while we wait for Elrond’s opinion on the map.”

“And you have thoughts as to how that might be achieved?” Thranduil asked.

“If we get lucky enough for a large storm… I just might,” Thorin told him. Thranduil raised an eyebrow at that. Thorin couldn’t quite help but grin. “I’ve got a few stories to tell you about your precious line…”


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited hair washing scene.

Gimli decided it was probably best to stay hidden as much as he could to draw as little attention to the fact that the Ri's had put essentially an entire hidden room in the back of their home. He didn't usually go back and forth to their house all that often to if someone spotted him doing so regularly now it would no doubt bring about suspicion. But staying cooped up was already starting to get to him. Gimli could definitely see why Legolas had been retreating to his mental forest so often after just a few days with only the same stone walls to look at. 

Legolas still couldn't feel anything below his neck and it worried Gimli immensely but he had no way of knowing if removing the spikes would make the elf's condition worse or not. Gimli was also very worried about the threat of Legagh. Every time the Dwarf slept and joined Legolas in his mental retreat he could practically _feel_ the goblin waiting in the shadows. Gimli wasn't sure what would happen to Legolas if he killed the twisted thing, or even if he could for that matter, but Gimli couldn't just sit back and watch Legolas be lost to darkness and madness.

But Legagh was a lingering worry during sleep and currently Gimli and Legolas were both very much awake. Legolas was not comfortable in the near pitch black darkness of the ventilation shaft so Gimli had gotten an extra lamp from Nori and was sitting up with the Elf to comfort him. "Better?" Gimli asked as he turned the knob on the lamp to increase the flame.

"Somewhat," Legolas said as he stared at the flame. "I would prefer clouds and stars above me but it is better than what it was."

"We'll get you your stars and clouds soon," Gimli said. "I promise." Legolas gave the slightest nod, the most movement he'd been able to manage since the latest wounds. Gimli frowned at the faraway look in the Elf's eyes. A thought occurred to him and he carefully got up. "I have to get something from the house. I'll be right back."

Gimli didn't give Legolas much time to reply and hurried out of the shaft to the main house. Nori was out searching for a way to smuggle Legolas out of the mountain and Ori was sitting at the table with a heavy book opened up in front of him. "Ori. I need a tub."

Ori looked up in confusion. "A tub?"

"I'm going to clean up Legolas a bit. Make him feel better," Gimli explained as he started looking through the cabinet for something that would work for his purposes. Ori got up from his seat and went to one cabinet and started looking through it. After a moment, the little scribe pulled a metal pan about six inches deep out from under several other pots. "Fantastic," Gimli said as he took the pan. The pot wasn't as deep as he'd been thinking but that might actually be better. He did have to carry the thing full of water.

Ori helped Gimli fill the pan with steaming hot water and got a bar of soap and some towels from further in the house. Gimli had to walk very carefully to not drop the heavy tub or slosh any hot water all over the place. Getting into the shaft was a trick and a half but Gimli managed it with a little careful maneuvering. 

Legolas stared as Gimli put the tub down on the wooden platform. "What's that?"

"A couple gallons of hot water," Gimli replied. Ori reached in to hand Gimli the towels and soap. "Thanks, Ori." Ori nodded and closed the door to the hidden room behind him. "I thought you'd feel a bit better if we got you cleaned up some."

"... that's very kind of you," Legolas muttered.

Gimli flashed him a quick smile. "I've been meaning to help you with it for a while but everything went crazy and didn't get a chance," Gimli explained as he pushed his sleeves up his forearms and shifted the supplies around. Legolas frowned ever so slightly but Gimli still caught it. "What's wrong?"

"I just... Normally I would not need help," he said.

The redheaded Dwarf paused and thought about that for a moment. He had never met Legolas as anything but a prisoner but Gimli knew that at one point he had been a Prince of Mirkwood and that did imply he could take care of himself. Gimli could imagine that being reduced to needing help getting clean would be embarrassing. "Well, think of it as pampering," Gimli suggested as lightly as he was able. "It isn't like you don't deserve a little after everything you've been put through."

Legolas studied Gimli for a few moments. "I suppose, I could do that... though usually I would draw the line at others bathing me."

"We've crossed more than a few lines here, what's one more?" Gimli asked as he adjusted his position and the position of the tub.

Legolas' mouth quirked upward just a bit. "Indeed."

"We'll start with your hair."

Legolas let out a relieved sigh, "Thank you. It's been infuriating."

"I can only imagine," Gimli said as he used his arm to prop Legolas up. Using a towel as a makeshift headrest, Gimli arranged everything so that the tub was just under Legolas' head and his long blonde hair was in the water. Gimli still had to hold Legolas up slightly and that made things awkward, but he didn't care. It wasn't as if he were lacking in the strength department.

Legolas closed his eyes and sighed again as Gimli carefully poured water over his scalp, although he did flinch a little when the water ran over the wounds he had gotten from Thrain pulling out his hair. Gimli watched carefully for each reaction even as he carded his fingers through the long strands of blonde to ensure that his hair was untangled and fully wet. Gimli wasn't a fan of how more than just a few strands came out with only a gentle touch but didn't make any mention of it.

Gimli spent longer than was truly necessary running his hand through Legolas' hair but he found the motion strangely entrancing. Legolas seemed to be enjoying the sensation as well and let his expression soften with each move of Gimli's hand. After several minutes of just untangling the Elf's hair, Gimli finally reached for the soap. It probably wasn't as nice as what Legolas would have gotten back home but it would at least clean him up.

Gimli ran the bar of soap over Legolas' scalp gently before putting it to the side and then proceeding to use his hand again to work the soap into his hair. Legolas sighed again as Gimli built up some suds against his scalp. "That does feel good," the Elf murmured. "... Almost unfairly so."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," Gimli said as he gently washed some flakes of dried blood away from his wounded scalp. Legolas winced a little but didn't protest as the Dwarf worked. Gimli rinsed the first suds out with the water before grabbing the soap again. "Do all Elves have hair like yours?" he asked.

"What do you mean like mine?" Legolas asked, sounding as if he were only half paying attention.

"So smooth and straight?" Gimli clarified.

"I suppose," Legolas hummed. "I haven't thought on it much to be honest." Gimli made a noise of understanding and continued to run his soapy fingers through Legolas' hair. "Do all Dwarves have fingers like yours?"

Gimli paused for a heartbeat. "Fingers like mine?" Legolas hummed again but didn't clarify. "Well, I mean, I suppose... although I guess miners would have different callouses than smiths or warriors would. All Dwarves work with our hands so mine are fairly typical."

Silence fell between the two of them as Gimli continued to slowly and methodically wash Legolas' long hair. More strands were coming out as Gimli worked but he still refused to mention it. Legolas finally appeared peaceful and it was easy to forget that he couldn't move. He seemed to simply be resting across Gimli's lap. Gimli was trying his utmost best to not pay attention to anything but the job in front of him but the softer light of the lantern was much more flattering to the Elf than the harsh lights in the chamber. 

Legolas' face appeared, through some trick of the flickering light, to be less thin although the bruises from his beating were still far more visible than Gimli liked. Gimli had to use his hand to pour water over Legolas' skull and wash away the suds for the final time. "There. Better?" Gimli asked as he carefully slid the tub out of the way and used the towel that had been acting as a headrest to begin to dry off the length of golden hair that he'd just spent the better part of an hour carefully washing.

"Much," Legolas murmured. He finally opened his eyes again to look up at the Dwarf above him. "Thank you, Gimli. I must admit I wasn't expecting anything like that."

"Pleasure's all mine," Gimli answered as he carefully laid Legolas down again. "I can't imagine many have been granted the privilege." 

"Not any at all, actually," Legolas said. "Not since I became old enough to do it myself. It isn't usually considered... appropriate for others to touch our hair."

Gimli couldn't quite help the expression of surprise. "It sounds like when others are allowed to touch our beards. I really do feel privileged now. Thank you for letting me do it."

"Thank you for taking the time... and being so considerate about it," Legolas replied. "I certainly wasn't expecting you to be as gentle as you were."

Gimli brushed a stray droplet of water away from Legolas' temple. "Just ask and I'll be happy to do it again," Gimli promised. He realized he probably shouldn't have enjoyed holding Legolas close and running his hands through his hair so much but he did. It had been peaceful and, though probably more intimate than was truly good, not a chore in the least. Gimli hesitated for a moment before letting his hand cup Legolas' cheek. "Should I stop at your hair?" he asked.

Legolas studied him carefully for several minutes. "For now, yes," he finally answered. "I am rather hopeful I won't be here too much longer. So a more complete bath would be unnecessary."

"I'm hopeful about that as well," Gimli said, unable to help but stroke Legolas' still wet hair back. "And now we have people in and outside the mountain that can work together."

"There have always been people outside," Legolas pointed out.

"True..." Gimli muttered. He shifted how he was sitting so that he was able to rest Legolas' torso on his lap and half prop the Elf up. "Can I ask you something, I've been wondering?"

Legolas hummed, "By all means."

"Have you tried reaching your father with these dream things?" Gimli asked. He would have thought that reaching Thranduil would be much more favorable to Legolas than continuing to share his mind with a Dwarf. Plus, he could imagine it would comfort them both.

"We are too far, I think," Legolas said. "Dream sharing is not truly meant to happen with just anyone. Again, I can't really explain why it's happening with you, Gimli, but normally if you dream share it should be with someone you know very well and are physically nearby. The best links tend to be between those that are married."

"Married?" Gimli echoed, slightly alarmed by the word.

Legolas chuckled a bit. "You needn't sound so scandalized. I am not implying we are married. Elven Marriage is deeper than just a few words exchanged. It links two individuals to their very souls. Being able to share one another's dreams after that is simple."

"It's unfortunate he's too far away," Gimli said. "It would be good for you both, I think, to be able to see each other again. Even if it is only in a dream."

"I am not sure I would want my Father to see what has become of my mind since I've been here. It unsettles even you, Gimli, and you haven't the same understanding of it as my Father would," Legolas said. "And don't try to say you're not unsettled because I have seen it in your face several times."

Gimli didn't argue but he did tighten his hold on Legolas in an attempt to be comforting. "Will it heal?" he asked into Legolas' damp hair. "Given time?"

"... perhaps. To a point, probably," Legolas murmured. "Unless I lose the battle entirely. Then it will only decay further."

"That won't happen," Gimli promised. "I won't let Legagh take you."

Legolas sighed. "Fighting him will wear you out, Gimli. Just as it has me..."

Gimli smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Are you underestimating the stubbornness of Dwarves after all this time?"

"I would never think to do such a thing," Legolas answered sarcastically.

"Good. Then believe me when I say, I will find a way to be rid of him once and for all," Gimli said before impulsively placing a kiss to Legolas' temple. "You will be truly free. I promise you."


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly fluff, but things are going to start happening so I needed another fluffy moment before it all starts

When Gimli finally sat down and told his mother what was going on in the mountain all this time, he wasn't sure what reaction would be the best. The situation didn't really lend itself to good things so he would be willing to go for 'least bad' with minimal cursing. What he ended up getting was the fiercest stream of Khuzdûl he'd ever heard from anyone, much less his mother. She ranted for a good ten minutes, cursing everyone from Thorin to Glóin to Thraín to even Naín even though he was barely involved in the situation. In fact, Gimli was reasonably sure the only person she hadn't berated in her long tirade was Legolas himself, which Gimli was glad for. After all, Legolas hadn't done anything wrong.

Gimli just waited quietly for his mother to calm down. When she finally did, she turned a fierce gaze to Gimli. "Where is this elf now then?"

"Hidden," Gimli answered. "Until we can find a way to get him out of the mountain.

"And how is that progressing?"

Gimli could only shrug a little helplessly. "Not so well... but maybe they figured something out that they haven't told me yet."

"Is that likely?" She asked.

"Not... particularly," Gimli admitted. He would assume that if they had found a way to get the elf out they would have told Gimli right away so that he could pass the message on to reassure Legolas he wouldn't be trapped here for much longer.

She sighed in frustration. "Of all the boneheaded things..." she grumbled. She hadn't had a chance to speak with her husband before the exile though she had trusted him to know that he was falsely accused. Glóin would never betray their people. He was almost painful proud. Gimli's mother sighed and eyed Gimli again where he was sitting. "Bombur was exiled too."

Gimli blinked, not sure what that sudden topic change had to do with anything really. "Yes..."

"So who's feeding the Elf now?"

"Well, Ori is," Gimli answered.

Gimli's mother snorted. "Wait here, Gimli. I'll be back shortly," she said before going into the kitchen.

After perhaps forty minutes where Gimli tried his best to wait as patiently as possible, his mother finally returned with a medium sized container. She put the warm stoneware pan on the table. "This will be much better for the poor thing than whatever Ori can scrape together without his brother around. And I made sure even your Uncle couldn't complain about it being hard to eat or something like that," his mother said. "Now go on."

Gimli was mildly surprised but took the food as he was told and hurried off to the Ri's home. Ori wasn't a bad cook per say, but he definitely wasn't up to the standards of Bombur. Gimli was just glad that his mother had let him finally go to check on Legolas.

The atmosphere within the mountain was growing more and more tense. Whatever bits of Legolas that was still powering the place was not actually enough to keep everything running. The furnaces had gone out first as they had been drawing the most energy. In order to make sure the growing lights didn't falter next entire halls had been disconnected from the system and were now being lit by oil lamps that hadn't been used in centuries. How long that would last, nobody could really say. Since everything had been running on Legolas nobody had paid attention to how much oil or spare lumber was around should something happen.

Gimli avoided all the densely populated areas of the mountain on his way back to the Ri home. Though the secret room was relatively well hidden, Gimli didn't want to draw any extra attention to the house which might cause it to be searched. The King wouldn't need much excuse to do so since Dori had been exiled already. Suspicion was already naturally there.

There was nobody around when Gimli finally reached the small house and so he carefully balanced the food with one hand to knock quickly on the front door. When the door opened, Gimli was surprised to see it was Nori that had answered. "Back again?" he asked.

"Of course," Gimli said as he stepped inside. "Where's Ori?"

"Princess wanted his help an' since she can't come down here... he went ta her," Nori answered with a vague gesture towards the top of the mountain.

Gimli nodded a little and went straight for the hidden door. Nori helped get the secret entrance open and then closed it behind Gimli almost instantly. Gimli frowned when he didn't get an immediate greeting from Legolas. He put the food down and then crouched beside the Elf.

Legolas was staring at the ceiling, but his lips were beginning to tinge blue. Gimli realized with a start that the Elf wasn't breathing. "Legolas!" Gimli called before giving the prince a quick shake. When that didn't get a reaction, Gimli carefully pried open Legolas' mouth.

Nothing was blocking his airway, so Gimli quickly swooped down to push air into Legolas' lungs himself. It took Gimli a minute and several chest compressions, but he managed to get Legolas breathing again. Legolas gasped and coughed as Gimli helped prop him up slightly. "Did you go to sleep without me?" Gimli asked. "I told you not to do that," he added as he brushed Legolas' still thinning hair back. Legagh was still far too real a threat.

"I didn't mean to," Legolas muttered though his voice was still thin. "I just... I hate being trapped in here."

Gimli nodded and leaned down to press a kiss to Legolas' forehead. "It's alright. You're safe now," he said as he continued to cradle Legolas close.

"I don't think I'll ever be safe..."

"Come on, don't say that," Gimli said. "I'll make sure you're safe."

Legolas didn't answer that one. Gimli held him for another few moments before trying his best to smile. "My mother made you something to eat. Are you hungry?"

"Is it soup again?" Legolas asked with a sigh. "Because, if so, I don't believe I am, no."

"I'm not sure what it is," Gimli admitted. "But will you at least try it? She made it special for you." Legolas nodded the slight amount he was able, and Gimli carefully put him back down against the bed. Gimli opened the lid and was assaulted with the rich smells of chicken and spices and saw piles of creamy pasta with cheese melted into it. Gimli couldn't quite help but smile. "It's not soup," he told Legolas. "It's one of my mother's best recipes. I hope you like cheese because there's a lot in here."

Legolas didn't react to that, so Gimli just scooped a bit of the creamy, cheesy concoction onto a fork, being sure to get a small bit of the chicken as well. "Here," Gimli offered as he went back to Legolas' side. Legolas sighed but opened his mouth to accept the forkful. Legolas took a few slow chews before stopping entirely. "Legolas?"

Gimli was worried at the way the Elf seemed to freeze, but then Legolas swallowed. There were tears in his eyes and Gimli thought for a panicked moment that he'd giving Legolas solid food too earlier. His Uncle had warned against that. "Ah! Do you need something to drink? There's water here! Hold on-"

"I don't need something to drink," Legolas said as he blinked several times furiously to try and clear his eyes. "I just... I think I love your mother is all."

Gimli couldn't help but laugh at that and leaned down to kiss Legolas' forehead. "She's a good cook, right?" he asked. Legolas nodded slightly. "Here now, it's alright," Gimli said as he brushed the tears away. "You can have as much of this as you want. Ma will be glad you liked it."

"It's the first... real food I've had in... in a very long time..." Legolas murmured.

"We were worried you wouldn't be able to handle solids well," Gimli explained as he reached into the pan to get another bite for Legolas. "That's why it's been all soups."

"I know why," Legolas said. "But that's just not the same thing as real food."

Gimli nodded in understanding. "Well, like I said, you can have as much of this as you want. Just try to not make yourself sick from overeating," he warned as he presented the Elf with another bite. Legolas nodded again and took the next bit of food.

Gimli got comfortable and slowly fed Legolas less than either of them wanted but as much as Legolas said he could actually stomach. Though he had successfully made the leap to solid food, he still wasn't used to eating much anymore and had to stop long before he really wanted to. "Thank your mother for me," Legolas murmured. "It was very good."

"I will," Gimli assured him before brushing away another stray tear from Legolas' face.

"Don't you dare tell her I cried," Legolas added.

Gimli smiled. "I won't," he said. "I'm sure she'll be happy to keep making things for you to eat though. Especially since Bombur can't anymore. He's going to be quite upset about that, actually. He had a whole plan for when you were cleared to eat solid food again, and he wasn't even here to do it. But Mother's plenty capable of putting meat on you. She's glad to do it."

"She seems a very nice lady," Legolas said. He was staring at the lantern burning in the corner of his alcove. "Considering all the trouble that's been caused over me she didn't have to do anything at all."

"Nothing that's happened has been your fault though," Gimli pointed out. "So she wouldn't ever hold a grudge against you. In fact, when I told her what has happened earlier, she cursed out everyone _except_ you. Nobody in their right mind would blame you for any of this and, though I'm sure my father and I had done our best, my mother is not actually out of her mind."

Legolas allowed himself a small laugh at that. "Doesn't stop others from blaming me. I'm sure if you told every Dwarf in this mountain about me not all would have the reaction that your mother did."

Gimli sighed. "You're right. There will always be those that blame people they shouldn't. But that doesn't mean anything against you," Gimli said. He leaned close and kissed Legolas' temple gently. "None of this is your fault."

"Sometimes I wonder," Legolas said.

"What do you mean?"

Legolas sighed, and Gimli tilted his position so that he could better see the Elf's gaunt face. "If I hadn't wandered so far from home that day none of this would have happened. Father kept warning me not to go so far, but I arrogantly didn't think anything could ever hurt me," Legolas said. "I should have listened to him, and I never would have been captured in the first place."

"Wandering away from home is not a crime," Gimli said. "Thrór should have never kidnapped you."

"He couldn't have if I had been within the borders of the forest," Legolas muttered.

"Not the point," Gimli told him firmly. "It wasn't your fault, and if you imply it again I'll have to... to..."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Do what, exactly, Master Dwarf?"

"I'm not sure, but I'll think of something," Gimli grumbled. "Just don't say anything like that again and you'll be safe from my wrath."

Legolas snorted. "I somehow doubt your wrath would be all that scary."

"That's because you've never seen it," Gimli assured him.

"You pique my curiosity."

"I'd rather pique something else," Gimli answered without thinking. The silence that followed that statement was enough to make Gimli cringe. He could not believe that he would be so stupid. "I'm sorry. That... that came out wrong. I didn't mean to imply-"

"I think you did," Legolas said softly. "But its alright. Banter sometimes gets out of hand. I understand that."

Gimli wanted to argue that it wasn't just banter that got out of hand but his voice decided one embarrassment was enough for now and abandoned him. Legolas shifted his head slightly so that he could better see Gimli. "Could you lay me back down, Gimli? My spine is hurting..."

"Ah, right," Gimli carefully lowered the Elf back to the makeshift bed and carefully tucked him under the blanket. "Can I get you anything else?"

"No. I'm... as well as can be expected."

"Are you sure?" Gimli asked. "I don't mind getting you something."

Legolas offered a smile that didn't do much to remove the sadness in his eyes. "Thank you, but I'm sure. I'd... actually rather be alone for the moment, if that's alright, Gimli."

"You're not going to go to sleep?"

"No... I promise I won't return to Reverie intentionally," Legolas said.

"Alright, I'll be back to check on you in a little bit," Gimli said as he reluctantly packed away the remains of the meal and turned the lantern up a little higher before leaving the hidden room.


End file.
